


Work in Progress

by Nathalaia



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Celebrities, Friendship, Light Angst, Love/Hate, M/M, Romance, Various Cameos - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 00:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7779448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nathalaia/pseuds/Nathalaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wonshik didn't remember who threw the first insult - it could have been him just as easily as it could have been Jaehwan - but it started a trend, and it was now widely known that Wonshik and Jaehwan did not get along with each other, to put it mildly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya!
> 
> I have returned with a WonJae fic (celebrity ex-boyfriends AU!) this time around. And no death. And no smut. And only a tiny bit of angst (just so you know the real me hasn't been kidnapped by aliens)! (My new year's resolution is going splendid so far!)
> 
> This fic has been in the works since... before March, at least. It has been a bitch at times, as my fics are wont to be, for some reason. Despite that, this fic has been so fun to write at times, too! Meg has once more played a big part as my beta and my go-to-person whenever this shit refused to behave and I needed someone to complain to, pffft, and I'm eternally grateful for her!
> 
> With all this said, I unofficially finished this fic on August 8th - unofficially because while I finished all the scenes, it still needs edits and a couple of hundred read-throughs, so. However, due to its length, I've decided to split it up into four chapters. Yay! First VIXX chaptered fic, heh.
> 
>  
> 
> Word count: ~22.500
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you like this story!

**Poster credit:[Spotlight Posters](http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/847707/spotlight-posters-open-graphics-poster-request-postershop-graphicshop-designer) ** on AsianFanfics.

  


* * *

“Woah!”

Jung Yoojin let out a startled yelp when arms wound around her midriff, efficiently preventing her and Jaehwan from tumbling to the ground in a heap of flailing limbs. With their balance regained and feet planted firmly on the ground, Jaehwan chuckled.

“Easy there,” he said, not unkindly, untangling himself from the young woman and retreating a few steps to create a polite distance between them.

Yoojin blinked rapidly, and then her eyes widened with dawning realisation and she dipped down in a hurried bow, the apology tumbling over her lips in heavily English-accented Korean. “Oh, I am so sorry!” She straightened, but didn’t quite meet his eyes as she nervously smoothed the imaginary folds in her summer dress. “Sorry. Again. Are you alright?”

With an assuring, and slightly confused, smile, due to Yoojin’s accent making her words somewhat difficult to decipher, Jaehwan pointed at himself in question. “Me? Oh! I’m fine. Are you…” He trailed off, looked contemplative for a moment, and then cleared his throat. He continued, now in hesitant English, “You… Are you okay?”

The moment Jaehwan switched to English, Yoojin’s face lit up, rattling off in the familiar language, “Ah, I’m perfectly fine! Again, I’m so sorry. I just got here, and I –”

“Aah, wait, wait!” Jaehwan interrupted, hands thrown up and a pinched look on his expression, though the edges of his mouth were still turned upwards in a friendly smile. He muttered something under his breath, chuckling, before continuing in his stilted English, “Slow. Go slow. I know English… only little.”

Yoojin bowed her head in embarrassment, wringing her hands nervously. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, once more in Korean, before switching to English for her following words, “Ah… is this alright?” she enquired, slowing down her speech and carefully articulating each word.

Jaehwan smiled and nodded, and Yoojin blew out a relieved exhale. “I am looking for a park that should be near here, but I seem to have lost my way…” She trailed off with a shy laugh.

Nodding, Jaehwan took a quick glance at the papers in his hand, before looking back at Yoojin. “Ah, park? Like…” Mouth pursed, he gestured with his hands, and, upon seeing Yoojin’s bemused expression, let his hands fall back with a laugh. “Uh… Trees and grass, right?”

A smile lit up her expression, and she gave a nod. “Yes.” She raised a finger to her lips in thought, blinked, and went back to Korean to say, “A park. Nearby. Parents… Meeting with my parents.”

Jaehwan nodded pensively and looked around them, scratching his head as he oriented himself. “A park nearby…” he mumbled to himself, and then a light came on behind his eyes and he turned to face Yoojin once more. With a smile, he switched to English. “I know park. We go… this way?”

Yoojin looked in the direction Jaehwan gestured, hopeful but still unsure. Clearing his throat, Jaehwan regained Yoojin’s attention and pointed at himself. “I take you, okay?” he offered, holding out his arm for her to take.

Her smile back to shy, though no less bright, Yoojin nodded. “Thank –”

“Your character may be bad at English,” Wonshik tutted, “but that’s just sad.”

Wonshik had watched the entire scene from his seat on the left side of the makeshift stage, mouth set in a persistent line and arms crossed petulantly over his chest. The actors had slipped off by themselves to rehearse, and Wonshik had happened upon them running through their lines and thought he could spare a moment to watch. He had remained unseen for most of it, letting the actors practice their scripts, his judgment growing with every second that passed. Eventually, he had been unable to sit still and observe anymore and had thus set off towards the stage, evading Taekwoon’s hands trying to catch him and drag him back down with a grace that spoke of years of experience.

Jaehwan straightened, mouth twisting as his gaze trailed down Wonshik’s figure as though he were the most repulsive thing he had laid his eyes on the whole day, if not month. Eyes snapping back up to meet Wonshik’s, he placed one hand on his hip and sneered. “Wonshik. How _lovely_ it is to see you. I see your flattery has not diminished, despite the lack of schedule you’ve taken on recently.”

Looking over Jaehwan’s shoulder, Wonshik managed a genuine smile at Yoojin, one that she returned before she stepped down from the stage, conveniently coming to the decision that now would be a good time to take a break. Then his smile dimmed, and he pinned Jaehwan with a glower. “I am here, am I not? I have a hand in the songs you’re going to sing.”

Arching one eyebrow, he tilted his head and threw the script in Jaehwan’s hand a pointed look. “Funny. For the _star_ you’re supposed to be, you memorise your lines admiringly slow.”

A smirk slid onto Jaehwan’s expression, and he shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s the price I have to pay for being incredibly popular. I’ve had quite a bit of ads as of late. Surely you’ve seen them?”

Emitting a small laugh, Wonshik said, “Aah, one of them was that makeup ad, wasn’t it? I saw it.” He continued coolly, “Did they throw in a bonus because you came to the set with the stuff caked on?”

The smirk on Jaehwan’s lips dropped a bit, and he folded his arms over his chest with a huff. “What can I say? I wear the product well. I’m sure if they wanted someone with that more rugged, hobo look, they would have given you a call.”

Wonshik’s lips twitched in annoyance, but his thin smile stayed glued on his face. “Well, I guess they wanted a _healthier_ look. I see the camera didn’t add ten pounds this time.”

The script in Jaehwan’s hands crumbled as he fisted his hands, and he took a step closer to Wonshik, snapping, “Why, you piece of _sh_ -”

Hakyeon, Jaehwan’s manager, came rushing towards them with Taekwoon following close behind him. “Ah! Easy, kids. What have we told you about playing nice?” He pinned Jaehwan with a pointed look as he came to a halt by his side. “Particularly with ones who have a bit of _authority_ in a show you star in?”

Wonshik grinned at the sour expression on Jaehwan’s face, and, had Taekwoon not appeared behind him just then, would have spit out another insult. As it was, Taekwoon grabbed his ear chidingly, pulling a yelp from Wonshik.

“And _you_ ,” Taekwoon muttered; Wonshik flinched slightly at his tone, “with the bit of authority Hakyeon mentioned, ought to act like it. They were in the middle of practising their lines, and you were rude to interrupt them. I thought I taught you better.”

Wonshik caught the snort from Jaehwan and twisted around just in time to see the asshole stick out his tongue at Wonshik as he pulled out of Hakyeon’s hold. “I’m going to find Yoojin-ah. Do me a favour, Wonshik? Stay the hell out of the way.”

Wonshik swatted Taekwoon’s hand away and sneered at Jaehwan, ignoring Taekwoon’s warning hiss. “Even your fans know you need _all_ the practise you can possibly get. And more.”

Jaehwan, already on his way off the stage, merely flipped him off.

Hakyeon shared a loaded look with Taekwoon that Wonshik didn’t care enough to try and interpret before he set off after Jaehwan. Wonshik ground his teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes to try and calm down.

“Are you quite done?”

Wonshik easily detected the aggravated tone in Taekwoon’s voice, and let his shoulders slump.

“Yeah. I’m done.”

“I am going to bodily haul you away if I catch you exchanging more insults with Jaehwan today, you got that?” Taekwoon grumbled, eyes narrowed at Wonshik. It would have almost made Wonshik feel bad, giving Taekwoon trouble, if he were able to control the impulse to insult Jaehwan. As it was, there was little control of anything when it came to his dealings with Jaehwan.

“Sorry, hyung,” muttered Wonshik.

With a sigh, Taekwoon let his hand drop onto Wonshik’s shoulder, squeezing encouragingly. “Let’s go find the director,” he said as he steered Wonshik down from the stage. “He _is_ the reason we’re here, after all.”

-

As a former idol, Wonshik was no stranger to being in the limelight. He had had his face printed across various magazine covers and on social networking media more times than he cared to count. Mostly, he didn’t mind – hadn’t really had another choice but to get accustomed to it, because with stardom, you sacrificed your privacy. It was either that or give up your passion, and Wonshik was no quitter.

Even if his old group disbanded two years ago, Wonshik was still under Sin Entertainment as a model, music producer, and composer. As such, he was still popular and had a fan club in his name made up of loyal fans from his time as leader and rapper in _ROVIX_ as well as newcomers, a result of recent activities, most of which being modelling and a few offers to collaborate with fellow artists.

Wonshik cared a lot for his fans, old and new alike, and was always polite and easy to be around for interviews and variety shows. He knew he would be nowhere without them, would have little success if not for their adoration and interest in what he did as an artist.

However, sometimes, seeing his life written in black and white was too much.

During _ROVIX_ ’ peak, his abilities had been taken apart and questioned by netizens and reporters, his words twisted until they hardly resembled his actual answer, regardless of content. It had been a whirlwind of _Ravi has gained so much weight, haha, he must be exercising too little and eating too much,_ and _Ravi is looking a bit thin, isn’t he? I hope he’s eating well,_ to _I feel sorry for the other members in_ ROVIX _. Ravi can’t lead or rap for shit_ and ROVIX _, hwaiting! Your fans believe in you! Ravi leader is the best!_

Wonshik had known - _knew_ \- there was no way to satisfy everyone, and yet he had tried so hard. To please those poking fun at his weight, he had constricted his diet and squeezed another hour into his exercising schedule, and for those criticising his skills as a rapper and leader, he had put in more effort, staying at the studio past midnight to practise and write, resulting in too little sleep and trembling hands that he hid in his lap for interviews. Taekwoon, _ROVIX’_ manager at that point in time, had caught on fairly quickly and given him a fierce reprimand.

Still, it had taken being rushed to the hospital after collapsing on stage for Wonshik to care more about himself and less about everyone else. Some people, he had been forced to accept, would find fault in every single thing he did, and no amount of practise or days of starving himself could change their tune.

There had been articles questioning the credibility of Wonshik’s stay at the hospital, speculating if maybe it weren’t a way to gain media coverage and attention, but upon the insistence of those closest to him, Wonshik had tried to ignore those particular reports. _While it is the critique that will help you know what to improve, you shouldn’t focus so much on improving that you lose sight of what parts of you are already great,_ Taekwoon had said. Sometimes wisdom meant listening to what needed to be improved, but not dwelling to the point of ignoring the positives.

It may have gotten easier, after that, to turn a deaf ear to the unwarranted criticism and harsh words, but when _ROVIX_ , with the moral support of Park Hyosin, founder of Sin Entertainment, announced their disbandment due to conflicting interests in an exclusive interview, the media blew up and Wonshik suffered with it.

For weeks, Wonshik had been unable to go anywhere without flashing cameras and mics thrown at his face. _What are your plans now that_ ROVIX _is over? Will you continue as a solo artist under Sin Entertainment? Do you regret disbanding? Could you have prevented it? How is your relationship with your now ex-members? Do you hold a grudge against any of them for letting_ ROVIX _down?_

_ROVIX’_ disbandment had been upsetting, of course, but Wonshik didn’t regret it. None of them did. Their fifteen minutes of fame had come and gone, and they had grown to be different people, different artists. Wonshik had felt it was the right time to start making a name for himself. _Ravi_ was mostly forgotten, replaced by _Kim Wonshik_. Wonshik had missed being himself.

Consequently, it had been only a few months after _ROVIX’_ disbandment that Wonshik and Jaehwan had split up after one too many arguments.

Wonshik and Jaehwan had, with Hyosin’s consent, announced their relationship during _ROVIX_ ’ fourth year, after their peak, at a time where _ROVIX_ was stable in the music industry. It had evoked uproar amongst fans and media alike, despite the rumours that had gone around for almost a year prior to the statement.

It hadn’t been easy, answering rude reporters while keeping a polite tone and ignoring homophobic slurs in a country where homosexuals weren’t welcomed with open arms, but they had come through it, if not unscathed. They had had each other to lean on and support from family, co-workers and fans, as well as various celebrities, both in Korea and internationally, and it had been enough. Or so they had thought.

In retrospect, the amount of scrutiny may have set its mark on them.

Their relationship after it had become public knowledge had been turbulent, one filled with ups and downs and busy schedules that left them both exhausted and irate at the end of the day, prone to picking fights and screaming at each other until one would slam the door shut in the other’s face. Wonshik had difficulties remembering the good times in the beginning when they would laugh together and exchange adoring smiles, the memories tarnished by tears and hoarse throats from angry outbursts.

Eventually, it had culminated in Wonshik throwing a dish at Jaehwan that smashed into pieces when it hit the wall and slamming the door after him when he left Jaehwan’s apartment, never to set foot there again, other than to collect his stuff. And he had made sure to do that when he knew Jaehwan would not be there. It had marked the end of their relationship.

It had been a terrible month.

Rumours along with the articles picked up, fans siding with their favourite and throwing hateful words at the other for being so horrible to their poor artist. Wonshik’s fan club website had been spammed with baleful comments, everything from _I hate you for making Jaehwan oppa cry!_ to _I used to love you, but this is too much!_ to _Die, you asshole!_ drowning the ones that offered their support and understanding.

Once more, Wonshik was forced to face the flashing lights and nosy reporters with polite smiles and bows, even if all he wanted was to curl up in his bed and cry his heart out, because the world was _unfair_ and people, who had once proclaimed themselves his true fans, _cruel_.

He had been strung out, miserable after his breakup with Jaehwan, even if he realised it was for the best, and angry at those treating him like he was the only one at fault. Taekwoon had often been the one to find him sobbing in the shower, the water long turned cold, or holed away in the studio, working until exhaustion pulled him under and frequently forgetting to eat.

Wonshik wasn’t a quitter, but the hateful comments could possibly have made him into one, if it hadn’t been for Hyosin going out of his way to help his artists and Taekwoon for his never-ending support and, at times, brutal honesty. It had been what Wonshik needed to face the world that knew way too much about his life, despite his occasional heartfelt wishes that it didn’t.

Being in the same entertainment company, Wonshik and Jaehwan were fated to cross paths eventually, and everyone had held their breath when it happened, a mere week after their split. Neither Wonshik nor Jaehwan had lifted their gaze or spoke; they simply gave each other a wide berth as they passed.

The tense silence didn’t last for long.

Wonshik didn’t remember who threw the first insult – it could have been him just as easily as it could have been Jaehwan – but it started a trend, and it was now widely known that Wonshik and Jaehwan did not get along with each other, to put it mildly. Despite that, there had been instances where they were modelling for the same brand or label, and curses would inevitably fly between them, but they prided themselves in their working ethic and professionalism, and were thus capable of ignoring each other to get the work done.

Once in a while, when Wonshik was feeling particularly weary, he wished they could just ignore each other. Each insult hurt, regardless of whom uttered it. He sometimes hated himself for not being the mature one of the two and ending this petty game of _who can hurt their ex the most_.

Still, Jaehwan brought out that side in Wonshik without even trying, the side that couldn’t let go and refused to be the first one to back down and get on with his life. Wonshik didn’t particularly regret it when he won, but it did leave him with a peculiar hollowness in his chest.

For the most part, he tried not to care.

-

Wonshik’s favoured place to have lunch – and occasionally late dinner – was a café located fifteen minutes from his workplace at the corner of the road, nestled between a flower shop and a clothing store. If not for the slightly expensive dishes, the privacy the place offered was enough for him to become a regular.

His first visit had not been without stares, but unlike some places, the patrons eventually went back to their meals or drinks, and the waitresses didn’t trip over each other in their eagerness to serve him (it _had_ happened once; though, to be fair, the girl had been in training), nor did they come by his table every fifth minute to ask if everything were alright or if there were anything he needed; thus far, the waiter had only approached twice, once to ask if he’d like anything to drink whilst he waited, the second time to refill his glass. They were professional and gave him room to breathe as he enjoyed his meal, without the prickling sensation of eyes on his neck.

The café was modern with splashes of traditional that may have seemed out of place, but somehow fit the ambiance. Sets of comfortable mahogany chairs and pillowed benches placed around tables encased the kitchen island where the chefs cooked in the centre, illuminated by the yellow lights hanging from the ceiling and the windows in the walls, large but without making the customers feel like they were on display.

Halfway through his second glass of water, Wonshik looked up to find Taekwoon coming through the front door, already looking around for him. Wonshik held up his hand when Taekwoon’s gaze swept towards him, and then the elder was heading through the rows of tables and chairs towards him.

“It’s rude to suggest going out for lunch, and then be thirty minutes late,” Wonshik chided playfully, watching Taekwoon shrug off his coat to drape it over the back of his chair. Taekwoon gave him an unimpressed stare as he plopped down.

“The meeting with Hyosin sajangnim and the kids took longer than expected,” he explained, not sounding very apologetic. Wonshik clicked his tongue disdainfully, which earned him another of Taekwoon’s glares. “You watch it.”

Snickering, Wonshik leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on the table, before levelling Taekwoon with a curious look. “So, are you leaving my side for those kids anytime soon?”

Taekwoon shrugged vaguely, reaching for the menu to give the choices a contemplative glance; pointless, Wonshik thought wryly, considering that Taekwoon ordered the same thing for lunch nine out of ten times.

“Their current manager’s wife is due in a few of weeks, so I might,” Taekwoon mused, seeming more interested in the prospect of food than this opportunity just within his reach.

“You should do it,” Wonshik advised, raising a brow when Taekwoon looked up from the menu momentarily to pin him with a sceptical stare.

“How could I possibly leave you to your own devices? I leave you unattended for _two_ minutes and when I get back, I somehow always find you around Jaehwan, and then it’s up to Hakyeon and I to get between the two of you before one of you commit murder.”

Fighting down a scowl at the mention of Jaehwan, Wonshik averted his eyes and muttered petulantly, “Not _always_ …”

Taekwoon snorted, unconvinced. “No? Need I remind you of last Monday? He was minding his own business, like you were also supposed to, and before I knew it, you were flying towards the stage as though a hoard of spiders were chasing you. You must be a glutton for punishment or have some sort of fetish for you to seek him out constantly, instead of leaving him alone like you should.”

When Wonshik still gave him an incredulous stare, Taekwoon rolled his eyes. “Or the time before that, where you nearly lunged over a table at one of the company meetings. It’s like you are a hound looking for a racoon to corner.”

“He sometimes seeks _me_ out,” Wonshik pointed out instead of trying to defend himself. He hissed when Taekwoon kicked him under the table.

“You are both _idiots_ ,” Taekwoon declared. “Still, the point stands. If I become _BTOBIX’_ manager, I won’t be around you, and then who knows what kind of trouble you’ll get yourself in?”

“I am an adult.”

“You don’t _act_ like one,” Taekwoon countered, before softening. “At least, sometimes you don’t. Becoming four kids’ babysitter means that I can’t keep an eye on you as well as I can now.”

Sensing what Taekwoon was really getting at, Wonshik straightened in his seat and met Taekwoon’s eyes without flinching. “I am older now, and I’m not under the same amount of pressure. I will be fine, hyung.”

Pursing his lips, Taekwoon went back to the menu, deciding against pursuing that topic. A waiter appeared a minute later, taking their orders, and then promised to get back with their drinks in a moment. Once provided with a mug of coffee each, the topic of Taekwoon’s future prospect began again.

“You’ll like it, I bet,” Wonshik said, cradling the mug between his hands as he kept his eyes on Taekwoon, who was nursing his own coffee.

“Possibly,” Taekwoon murmured. “The kids are all well-mannered and driven. They love what they do. If I am to become their manager, I wouldn’t mind. They have a well-spoken and caring leader, one I am sure will continue to lead them with a fair but firm hand, and they look up to him and respect him, though I know there’s also place for jokes and games.”

A soft smile appeared on his lips, and he hummed. “They are a cheeky bunch. Managing them won’t be easy, but, fortunately,” he arched a brow at Wonshik, “I have more than enough practice with handling unruly kids.”

Wonshik snorted, but didn’t disagree. It was the truth, after all. “So you’re going to agree.”

Taekwoon tilted his head, blinking contemplatively. Then his lips curled in a slight smile, his head dipping forward in a nod. “I think I am.”

“I can’t wait to formally meet your kids,” Wonshik cooed, and Taekwoon looked torn between laughing and kicking him again. Eventually, he settled on rolling his eyes.

“They’ve all been in the company for more than two years. You’ve met them before.”

“But then they weren’t _yours_ ,” Wonshik pointed out with a grin.

“You are insufferable,” said Taekwoon, but his twitching mouth gave him away.

-

When he had collapsed on stage, he had been forced – even threatened by Taekwoon – to stay at the hospital for a few days to rest, and then go home for an extended weekend. There, his parents and sister had proceeded to fuss over him, demanding that he stay in bed and eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner, no skipping. Wonshik loved his parents, adored his sister, but being banned from doing so much as stretch his arm to reach something above his head for days on end was horrible. He remembered how miserable he had been, like his skin was crawling with disdain.

Riding in the back of a van on his way to a joint photoshoot with his least favourite person was a very close second to that feeling he had back then.

“Play nice,” Taekwoon warned as the building came into view, the chauffeur taking them to the entrance to be set off. Wonshik had both a driving licence and a car, but one of the pros of stardom was a chauffeur and a van courtesy of the company; Wonshik recalled filming scheduled at the crack of dawn and catnaps stolen in the car in that precious time between the dorm and the location.

“Don’t I always?” Wonshik drawled, receiving a _look_ from Taekwoon.

“Hongbin assured me that there would be very few shoots with only you and Jaehwan,” said Taekwoon, watching Wonshik closely through the rearview mirror. “Hopefully, that can discourage you from going at each other’s throat.”

“So long as Jaehwan keeps a professional front, so shall I,” Wonshik grumbled just as they pulled up at the building. Taekwoon nodded, appeased for now.

They were led to the set by one of the assistants, where Wonshik barely had time to greet the crew and the other model, one Kim Seokjin, who was shooting his solos, before he was given a set of clothes by a stylist and directed to a backroom where he could change and have his makeup and hair done. Hongbin was nowhere to be seen, so he left Taekwoon with Hakyeon. The two seemingly gravitated towards each other whenever they were in the same place, despite Taekwoon’s occasional complaints about Hakyeon’s _enthusiasm_.

Hakyeon’s presence, however, meant that Jaehwan was most likely to be found in the backroom, so, resigning himself to his fate, Wonshik announced his arrival with a light knock and opened the door. Inside, he was met with the stony face of Jaehwan, the man already seated in a chair with a young woman tending to his hair, which had changed colour since last time. A light golden blond – and it looked good on him, Wonshik begrudgingly admitted. Another woman was sorting through the makeup to use for Wonshik, and spared a look up at his entrance.

“You’re here,” Jaehwan drawled, his eyes drifting towards Wonshik in the mirror. “Took you some time.”

“Some of us had a schedule before this,” Wonshik threw back as he was taken to the chair beside Jaehwan.

“I see,” Jaehwan hummed, his smirk just barely noticeable in the mirror. “You’re going to need a lot of makeup to cover up that skin of yours and the bags under your eyes.”

“Shame you’ll need God’s intervention to look presentable,” Wonshik countered, watching with some satisfaction as Jaehwan’s eyes narrowed.

The women shushed them, and so Wonshik and Jaehwan fell into a tense silence as the women worked their magic.

Taekwoon entered some ten minutes later, just when the woman was applying the finishing touches on Wonshik. Jaehwan was already dressed, and out shooting his solos, probably.

“Looks good,” Taekwoon hummed, and Wonshik offered a small smile. He had never been a huge fan of makeup, but years in this industry had long since taught him to just do what was required. “I trust you’re ready soon?” He looked between Wonshik and the makeup artist, and left again when she nodded. Wonshik followed him out two minutes later, dressed and ready to play his part.

They were shooting a spread for a popular brand of men’s clothing, stylish and modern. Some of the clothes were casual, like those Wonshik was currently wearing, whilst others were better suited for formal occasions.

Hongbin, an esteemed photographer, famous for his excellent skills with a camera, was currently ordering Jaehwan and Seokjin around for the perfect photos. It amused Wonshik how confident Hongbin was while in his element, only to turn timid outside of it. He was a good friend of both Wonshik and Jaehwan, which at times put him in a difficult position. It definitely hadn’t been easy for him, back when Wonshik and Jaehwan had just split up, and nowadays he tended to just steer clear of the topic to avoid choosing sides, accidentally or not. He only ever got between them if their bickering interrupted a photoshoot in any way.

Jaehwan and Seokjin’s shoots continued for another ten minutes, and then it was Wonshik’s turn with the other model as Jaehwan changed clothes and had his makeup and hair touched up. It went smoothly for the most part, with Hongbin sometimes telling one of them to turn a bit to one side or the other, lift your head, do this, do that. Wonshik trusted him to do a marvellous job, though, so he went along without complaints.

An hour later, after much running to and fro the backroom and the set, it was time for the joint shoots. Jaehwan and Wonshik exchanged disdained looks, but stayed silent as they stood with Seokjin - Wonshik had chatted with him between takes, and had found the man to be a good conversationalist and in general kind and down on earth - between them, smiling and laughing for the camera and scowling between every shot. Mostly, they kept their distance, two good-looking guys in the same shot but certainly not together. There came a time where their interaction was necessary, a few friendly gestures added, like Wonshik slinging his arm around Jaehwan’s neck and laughing. Hongbin, however, made sure to keep those few and far between, and they only held those poses long enough to get a shot before they resumed their distance.

“Good work, everyone!” Hongbin announced, nearly three hours after arrival, his dimples on full display as he regarded the crew and everyone else on set. “I think we have what we need, so let’s call it a day. Thank you for your cooperation!”

The crew cheered before people began to mill in different directions, Wonshik lingering behind. Jaehwan and Hongbin had chatted earlier, so when Jaehwan went to the backroom to get ready to leave, exchanging pleasantries with Seokjin, Wonshik approached Hongbin, greeting his friend with a smile.

“Good work to you, as well,” he said, patting Hongbin’s shoulder.

“I think you’ve deserved it more than I,” Hongbin insisted as he fiddled with the camera; he wouldn’t let any other get near it, so he was always the one to pack up his equipment. “Yours and Jaehwan’s chemistry is horrid in person, but I think it managed to look acceptable on camera. I’m glad you were able to work together without your typical exchange of insults.”

“We did start in on one another in the backroom,” Wonshik admitted, “but the makeup team told us to shut up. In nicer terms, of course.”

Hongbin huffed, a laugh hidden in the noise, and said, “Well, even then, you didn’t do that on set. I applaud you.”

They chatted for a few more minutes before Wonshik went to the backroom, where Jaehwan was packing up - Seokjin, it seemed, had already left. Wonshik fought the urge to sling an insult at him, and instead concentrated on removing the worst of the makeup, leaning against a counter as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Jaehwan remained quiet, as well, for all of three minutes. He was ready to leave, but came to stand beside Wonshik, looking down his – _large_ , Wonshik mentally added, smugly – nose at him.

“I thought I’d let you be one of the first to know,” he started sweetly, causing Wonshik to stop what he was doing and instead look suspiciously at Jaehwan through the reflection, “that I’m soon going to start working on my autobiography. Hyosin sajangnim has already given the green light.”

Wonshik’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond. A lot of celebrities wrote autobiographies, though usually later in life. Then again, Jaehwan had accomplished more than most in his relatively short career. But Wonshik watched as Jaehwan’s smile turned almost vicious, the other man elaborating on why this bit of information would be important for him to know, “I’m going to dedicate a whole _chapter_ for you, and, believe me, it won’t be in your favour.”

“ _What?_ ” Wonshik spluttered, spinning around to gawk at the other man.

“Intelligent,” Jaehwan tutted, his fingers tapping a familiar rhythm onto the table. Wonshik couldn’t remember the song title right off. “You didn’t hear me? I’m going to let everyone know how horrible a person you are, so you just wait.”

“You can’t be serious,” Wonshik snapped, taking a step closer and consequently getting into Jaehwan’s personal space. At the moment, he cared very little about that.

“Oh, I am _serious_ ,” Jaehwan promised, grinning when Wonshik scowled. “It’s going to be published sometime next year, I think, so I’ll be very busy these coming months. I have to make sure I portray you in the proper image.”

“Jaehwan, an autobiography is no joke,” Wonshik growled, seething at the thought of Jaehwan writing lies about him in some shitty book. As though reporters weren’t enough, he now had to deal with this, a book written by someone who not only knew him personally, but on an intimate level. He almost felt betrayed, though he couldn’t for the life of him figure out whether or not he had the right to feel that way, with how their interactions went nowadays. “I hadn’t thought you’d stoop so low.”

“The truth shall prevail,” Jaehwan snarked, righting himself and heading towards the door.

“ _Jaehwan_.”

“See you around, Wonshik,” Jaehwan trilled, uncaring, and then he was gone.

“ _Fucker_ ,” Wonshik hissed under his breath, left to blink stupidly at the door.

Had Jaehwan been serious? Was he honestly going to write an autobiography to tarnish Wonshik’s name? He couldn’t _believe_ it. Would Jaehwan really do that to him? The thought alone made his chest hurt. They couldn’t be in the same room without fighting unless their professionalism was required for something, but _this_ …

He remembered the song now. It was _Memory_ , a song he had penned himself. With rather fitting lyrics, at that.

Wonshik was torn between the fury in his chest and the betrayal burning low in his gut.

* * *

Comments and kudos are appreciated and loved! If you spotted any typos or the like, please do let me know <3

 

Until next chapter!


	2. Chapter Two

When Taekwoon found him in his studio the following day, Wonshik was still upset, evident in the way he glared at the computer screen before him and the scrapped attempts of writing scattered all over the floor.

“Hakyeon vouched for it,” Taekwoon said upon entering, kicking the door shut behind him. He folded his arms over his chest, pursing his lips as he continued, “According to him, Jaehwan has already started scheduling time to write his autobiography, and is in talks with a few publishers.”

Wonshik had been shocked at Jaehwan’s words, a part of him hurt that he would go that far just because of their past. He had later suspected Jaehwan of lying to rile him up, but, as it turned out, that wasn’t the case. He had been speaking the truth.

Jaehwan was writing an autobiography, and his aim was to denounce Wonshik. The realisation had something ugly twisting inside Wonshik, and he shifted uncomfortably, before meeting Taekwoon’s concerned eyes.

“I… can’t believe him, honestly,” Wonshik murmured, lowering his gaze to his hands again. He suddenly felt too vulnerable under Taekwoon’s stare, too painfully open. “Sure, we had a bad –” he snorted, “no, a _horrible_ fallout, but for him to do something like this?”

“Perhaps he just wanted to get a rise out of you,” Taekwoon suggested, frowning when Wonshik huffed. “Jaehwan may be many things, but you were both at fault –”

“I _know_ that.”

“Let me finish,” Taekwoon snapped at the interruption. “What I’m trying to say is that I doubt Jaehwan will really go through with it. If anything, he’ll probably skip over your involvement in his life in as few words as possible. He just wants to pick a fight with you.”

“Thus he considers it fair to threaten me with his _autobiography_?” Wonshik hissed, looking off to the side and narrowing his eyes. “That’s –”

“– Childish, yes. But, listen, Wonshik.” Making sure he had Wonshik’s attention, Taekwoon said, “He won’t drag you through the mud with this. He’ll taunt you, fight you, insult you, but not this. Your relationship may not allow you to think better of him, but he isn’t such a person; he won’t stoop that low just to hurt you.”

Wonshik shrugged, trying to sound indifferent as he muttered, “You never know. I wouldn’t have pegged him as such a character, either, but… Who knows how much he hates me? Perhaps he really just loathes me that much to wish me public humiliation.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Taekwoon let out a slow exhale. Wonshik frowned at his dramatics, because he found this situation to be a completely serious one and felt justified for thinking the worst.

“Okay, if we’re going with that scenario,” Taekwoon started. “If Jaehwan really wants to go through with it, there’s still Hyosin sajangnim, remember? He won’t allow such disputes between his artists to be printed like that, because it’s going to depict the whole company in a bad light. He’s definitely going to have a say in the production of Jaehwan’s book. One thing is dismissing the fact that you exchange insults now and then, but this is too _public_ , and as such out of the question.”

Wonshik had to grudgingly admit that Taekwoon had a point. There was no chance Hyosin was going to agree to it, right? A line had to be drawn. Hyosin was a fair man who cared about his artists and always tried to help them in whichever way possible. He would put his foot down if Jaehwan tried to write lies about Wonshik. Or, in any case, tried to write too harsh of a truth.

“Listen,” Taekwoon continued softly. “I can get Hakyeon to sit down with him for a talk, if you want. Isn’t it about time you put this feud behind you? It has been close to two years.”

“I know it sounds stupid,” Wonshik mumbled, “but it isn’t so easy to do.” He sighed, chuckling mirthlessly. “It’s like it’s ingrained in me, this urge to fight with him when he’s around, and even if I try to hold back, if he says anything to me out of line, I fall right back into the same pattern. It’s ridiculous.”

Taekwoon remained quiet for a while, letting Wonshik be alone with his thoughts, and then cleared his throat. “Want to join me for dinner?” He seemed to sense that Wonshik was tired of discussing Jaehwan and his potential shaming.

Wonshik blinked, then glanced at the work in front of him. “Sure. You still have to introduce me to your kids, by the way.”

“They are not my kids,” Taekwoon scoffed, waiting for Wonshik as he got ready to leave.

“But they _will_ be, soon, and that’s what matters,” Wonshik said, a wide grin pulling at his lips as he glanced knowingly at Taekwoon. It earned him a neck-chop.

“Come on, or I’m leaving to eat dinner by myself.”

“You’d think of me with every bite, though.”

“Hardly.”

-

Wonshik didn’t forget about Jaehwan’s intentions in the following days, but he did manage to shove them to the back of his mind where they wouldn’t disrupt him and his focus as he worked. He had a collaboration to prepare for next week, and through Taekwoon he had been tasked with the production of a number of songs for _BTOBIX’_ comeback set to drop in little more than a month. It had yet to be announced to their fans, but he knew they were in the process of filming the teasers, and would soon begin shooting the music video. A teaser would probably be uploaded at the end of the month on their official YouTube channel, along with the confirmed release date of the new album.

He recalled his time as an idol, and hoped the kids weren’t overworking themselves like he had a tendency to do. Perhaps he could swing by their practise sometime, see for himself that they were all healthy and well-rested. He wasn’t sure he had the patience to wait for Taekwoon, though he would still be expecting a formal introduction once Taekwoon had taken over as their manager.

Taekwoon, he mused as he stared at the paper in his hand, might appreciate having a hand in the production of his future kids’ album. He was well-versed in arranging lyrics and had a deceptively sweet singing voice, which Wonshik had teased him about ever since finding out about it at an outing at the local karaoke bar with Hongbin and Jaehwan some couple of years ago. He tried to get Taekwoon to sing at every chance he got, though more often than not, the task required alcohol to be provided.

With his mouth pursed in contemplation, he looked over the messy scrawling that made up his brainstorming and notes. Yes, he decided, he would ask Taekwoon to work on the lyrics with him; they had done it a few times before, arranging and producing a song and even once earning an all-kill for their efforts.

He blinked, the corners of his mouth unwittingly turning down.

They had gifted that song to Jaehwan, who, upon listening to the demo, had beamed sunshine at them and declared that he would be honoured to lend his voice to _such a masterpiece_. It had been said with a wink in Wonshik’s direction, and he still to this day suspected that Jaehwan had known the song had been written with him in mind; Jaehwan had often caught Wonshik staring, and that song had been about a man watching his lover from afar.

That had been back when they were dating without the public knowing, only suspecting. Those had been happier times than what would eventually follow.

Wonshik frowned at himself. There really was no point in reminiscing, so he shook the memory away and got to his feet. He would go look for Taekwoon, and if he weren’t to be found, he could seek out the kids. Nodding to himself, he left the studio.

The thing with working in the same entertainment as his ex was that, well, avoiding him was like trying to stay awake when he hadn’t had a wink of sleep for forty-eight hours. As such, it figured he had to bump into him in the hallway.

“Wonshik,” Jaehwan greeted with a hint of surprise in his voice as he came to a halt at the sight of him. Wonshik didn’t know what he had expected. “How _lovely_. It has been a while since the photoshoot. Did you see the results of our hard work?”

He had, and an insult was at the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it down and settled with nodding instead. Following Taekwoon’s advice seemed like a good idea. It was due time they put a stop to this ridiculousness between them.

“Shame even Hongbin’s skills with a camera couldn’t do something miraculous for your figure. Or photoshop,” Jaehwan said with a shrug.

Then again, why rush a recovery? It was best to take these things slow, warm up to the idea.

Wonshik snorted, folding his arms over his chest and levelling Jaehwan with a stare. There was a smirk curling at the corner of Jaehwan’s lips, and Wonshik wanted it _gone_. “Your insults are on par with your intelligence. Can you only think of snide comments concerning my looks? Need I remind you who earned a place on W Korea’s _Top 15_ s _triking men still in their twenties_ last month?”

“You placed thirteen,” Jaehwan drawled. “Hardly anything to be proud of, I’d say. You couldn’t even make it to top five, or even top _ten_.”

Wonshik shrugged one shoulder, the smile he directed at Jaehwan condescending. “I don’t remember seeing your name on the list.”

Jaehwan sniffed, straightening his back and meeting Wonshik’s eyes unflinchingly. Wonshik had always appreciated the fact that he had a few centimetres on the elder. “I don’t care for _lists_ , but I’m happy people like you can take comfort in them to soothe their insecurities.”

Wonshik tilted his head, the very picture of thoughtfulness. “Yeah? Are you certain it’s not your own doubts talking? I think I saw an article a few months back about your lack of talent. They even claimed you had only made it this far riding on others’ fame.”

Jaehwan ground his teeth, shifting his stance and pinning Wonshik with a glare. “You of all people should be familiar with reporters’ lies.”

“Like the lies you threatened me with last time?” Wonshik ventured, mouth forming a thin line as he fisted his hands. “Saying you’re going to write –”

“Who said anything about _threatening_?” Jaehwan snarled, and Wonshik paused. “That wasn’t a threat. That was a _promise_. I’m telling you, next year, everyone will realise what kind of person you really are, and you won’t be able to do a _thing_ about it.”

Wonshik leaned closer to Jaehwan, privately celebrating when Jaehwan took an unconscious step backwards. Trapped in the throes of the anger flaring up in him, burning through his blood, Wonshik leered. “You don’t think so? Well then, I’ll happily to be the one to enlighten you: I am writing my own autobiography, and I won’t be _nice_ either.”

That declaration seemed to take Jaehwan by surprise, but he was quick to bounce back, a laugh passing over his lips as he shook his head. “That’s a little sad, isn’t it? You aren’t really writing an autobiography; you’re just trying to get me to –”

“I’m not?” Wonshik cut off, cocking one eyebrow as he watched Jaehwan’s smirk weaken around the edges. “You may go ask Hyosin sajangnim yourself, then. He can vouch for me.”

“Are you actually _serious_?” Jaehwan spat incredulously, his glare taking on more heat when Wonshik nodded. “Ha, that’s rich. You deride me for _stooping so low_ , yet here you are, doing the same damned thing. You fucking _hypocrite_.”

“Well, if you hadn’t started it, we wouldn’t even _be_ in this situation,” Wonshik sniped, “so it’s your own fucking fault. You shouldn’t have taken it this far.”

“Fuck _you_ ,” Jaehwan hissed, and then he shoved past Wonshik, who stumbled at the contact of Jaehwan’s shoulder against his own.

Watching him leave, Wonshik swallowed thickly. He did not feel the same satisfaction as he had once whenever Jaehwan would choose flight over fight. Honestly, there was only a bad taste left in his mouth and an ache in his chest, and a voice in his head sounding suspiciously like Taekwoon calling him _a fucking idiot_.

With a deep breath, Wonshik shook it off and started in the same direction as Jaehwan, now with a new goal in mind.

He had to talk with Hyosin about his autobiography before Jaehwan could get to him. He may not feel decidedly pleased about watching Jaehwan leave in anger, but all the same.

There was no way he was going to let Jaehwan call him out on his lie and then be mocked for it the rest of his life.

-

“You said _what_?”

Wonshik may or may not have made it his mission to avoid Taekwoon like the plague ever since his argument with Jaehwan, but the older man cornered him the following day regardless of his stealth. Taekwoon was scary on a bad day, terrifying when pissed, and he was _definitely_ not happy right now.

“What in the world possessed you to do that?” Taekwoon hissed, looking like one who wanted to seize Wonshik’s shoulders and shake him until he figured out the inner workings of Wonshik’s brain. Wonshik knew the problem lay with his brain-to-mouth filter, when impulse shut down his common sense.

Wonshik generally prided himself in being an easy-going individual, someone to whom anger didn’t come easily, but _Jaehwan_ had this knack for ruining that, pretty much since they started publicly dating.

Wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue – Jaehwan had called it a nervous habit, back when they had only been friends; Wonshik was inclined to agree – Wonshik drew in a breath and said, slowly, “Hyosin sajangnim already gave the go ahead.”

Taekwoon turned his eyes heavenwards for a moment, before pinning his glare on Wonshik once more. “Are you out of your mind? Since when did you want to write an autobiography?” He squinted suspiciously at Wonshik. “If you really think you can get away with writing shit about Jaehwan, I’m disowning you.”

Wonshik pursed his lips, tapping his fingernails against his arm and generally trying to avoid meeting Taekwoon’s glower. “If Jaehwan…”

“Are you honestly going to write an autobiography just to get back at Jaehwan?” Taekwoon asked tonelessly, causing Wonshik to shift on his feet as he looked down.

“Perhaps.”

“You are both _ridiculous_ ,” Taekwoon groused. “Have you even stopped to consider the effort that goes into writing such a book? Hakyeon tells me Jaehwan has contacted various bookstores and read a number of autobiographies for research. He’s even discussing the content of his book with one or two authors. He is serious about this, whereas your sole aim is to get back at him. You have no aspirations with this autobiography.”

“Who says I’m not taking it seriously?” Wonshik muttered. “Look, it’s not such a big deal. If I end up scrapping the book, nothing will be lost. Only, my pride will be a little bruised when Jaehwan finds out, but at least he now knows I _think_ of doing it.”

“So you _are_ planning on trying,” Taekwoon stated, a question in his tone as he looked Wonshik over.

Wonshik nodded, this time meeting Taekwoon’s stare. “Yes. I am.”

-

_Who am I?_

_To some of you, the answer to my question is easy. I am Ravi._

_The question is not so simple, however. I am an entertainer, and because I am an entertainer, I have many different roles and names. Producer, rapper, leader, model… I have been so many different things in my short life. That is what the industry has asked of me, so that is what I became. Labels to help categorise me amongst the others who take up this fast paced life. I am many faces._

_But, then again, that’s not answering my question, is it? The labels are my persona as an entertainer, the different hats I wear. That is what I do, not who I am._

_To a few people, and to myself, I like to think I am just Kim Wonshik._

-

Taekwoon had his fair share of fans due to his looks and skills; Wonshik was convinced he would have been successful if he had pursued a career as an artist instead of manager, and had stated such often enough, usually earning a shy but satisfied smile from Taekwoon and an occasional fond eye roll.

His fans had appeared around the time of _ROVIX_ ’ debut, just around seven years ago, when he was known as _ROVIX_ ’ handsome manager. It wasn’t all that uncommon for managers to sometimes garner the love of fans, especially when they proved hard-working and caring on top of being blessed with a handsome face and a hot body. The dedicated fans had been quick to dig up information on Taekwoon, much to Taekwoon’s then astonished embarrassment and _ROVIX_ ’ amusement, and his fan club had grown steadily as time went by and _ROVIX_ ’ popularity increased.

When Taekwoon’s name had cropped up for the first time on the tracklist for _ROVIX’_ second studio album, claiming him as co-producer alongside Wonshik, his fanbase had skyrocketed, earning him quite a few mentions online and in magazines. He had even had a number of solo interviews.

Despite the rise in fame, he remained _ROVIX’_ manager until their disbandment, and then stayed by Wonshik’s side due to them having grown close over the span of years. Wonshik had quickly come to regard Taekwoon as his best friend, and their bond had only strengthened since the end of _ROVIX_.

The news of him being officially instated as _BTOBIX_ ’ manager had his own as well as _BTOBIX_ ’ fans rejoicing. Wonshik was horribly amused whilst Taekwoon was lost somewhere between deep-rooted embarrassment and pride.

To celebrate the first successful week of being _BTOBIX_ ’ manager, Taekwoon decided to treat the kids for dinner and invited Wonshik to join them.

“I did promise to formally introduce you,” he had said wryly upon proposing the invite, and Wonshik had grinned brightly and promised to be there.

Taekwoon had picked a fancy but reserved restaurant, much like Wonshik’s favourite café. It was one of many traits they shared, wanting to eat without fans and reporters alike breathing down their necks and documenting every bite they swallowed – though, granted, Wonshik knew most other artists shared that sentiment, if not all. A few of their dinners had caused rumours and articles of them supposedly dating. No matter how many times they tried to bury the claims of them being an item, the rumours would unfailingly resurface.

In all honesty, it wasn’t that either of them minded terribly. Taekwoon was supportive of Wonshik showing interest in men rather than women, another of the many reasons why Wonshik held Taekwoon so close to his heart. Taekwoon had never talked much about his own orientation, which Wonshik respected, but he couldn’t help but theorise on the matter. Sometimes, he speculated it was merely a matter of who could be what Taekwoon wanted and needed, and less about gender and physical attraction.

The main problem with the rumours was the endless questions thrown at them, interrupted dinners and other private affairs. Taekwoon preferred being out of the spotlight, even if his career as manager didn’t always permit it, and Wonshik tried to help as best he could. It had won him the title of _Protective Boyfriend #1_ amongst their shippers, a fact Wonshik often joked about with a sour-faced Taekwoon.

Taekwoon was already seated at the table with his kids when Wonshik was led to them by a waiter, and five heads looked up at Wonshik’s arrival. Wonshik grinned at Taekwoon in greeting. Taekwoon smiled back, before going straight for introductions.

“You already know Wonshik, and he knows you, but as I told you earlier, he wanted to meet you formally with me as your manager,” Taekwoon said to the group as Wonshik found a seat by Taekwoon’s side. Taekwoon twisted his body in order to look at everyone as he started pointing out the members.

“Im Hyunsik, leader, vocalist and dancer. Jung Ilhoon, rapper and vocalist. Yook Sungjae, rapper. Han Sanghyuk, maknae, vocalist and dancer.” Taekwoon then pointed at Wonshik, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “Kim Wonshik, former leader and rapper of _ROVIX_ , now composer and model. Play nice with him; he’s almost your age.”

“I expect a lot from you four,” Wonshik said sagely, motioning at Taekwoon. “He can be strict, but he’s soft-hearted and well-meaning. I will entrust him to you, and hope you respect him as your manager, but will also tease him endlessly, because he deserves it.”

Taekwoon neck-chopped him for that, but he was wearing a small smile as he did so, so Wonshik wasn’t worried. In due time, when Taekwoon was more comfortable around the members of _BTOBIX_ , he would be teasing them back just as mercilessly, so might as well prepare the kids.

With dinner served, the small talk turned to _BTOBIX_ ’ approaching comeback, one that the members participated enthusiastically in, excited as they were about their new album.

“We have almost finished filming the music video, and are satisfied with the result so far,” Hyunsik said after a mouthful of rice. “They have all worked hard for this.”

“I can’t wait for our _Starlit Melodies_ to watch the MV,” said Sungjae, grinning over his food. “I hope they like it. We’re coming back with a new concept, one they haven’t seen before from us.”

“They are already busy theorising after watching the teasers,” Hyunsik mused, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. “They’re coming up with a lot of interesting ideas. Their imagination and knack for taking apart every little detail in the hopes of figuring out what we’re doing is remarkable and entertaining to follow.”

“A lot of the theories are pretty farfetched, though,” Sanghyuk cut in, amused. “Sometimes, they forget to look at the whole picture, and instead look into every single detail that has no significance. But it’s still fun, and some of their ideas are worth taking up for future comebacks.”

“There is one theory going around that we are all dead, except for Sanghyuk ah, who is looking for our spirits,” Ilhoon grinned, tilting his head. “It’s a fascinating idea, but I don’t get where they got it from.”

“Fans come up with the most absurd theories sometimes,” Wonshik agreed, vividly recalling his time in _ROVIX_ and the theories leading up to their comebacks.

“Ah, Wonshik sunbaenim, you are producing some of our songs together with Taekwoon bujangnim, aren’t you?” Sungjae asked.

“Correct,” Wonshik said. “You could perhaps come by my studio to look over the lyrics with me sometime. If you have any suggestions, I’ll consider them carefully.” He glanced at Taekwoon as he asked, “Would you mind, Taekwoon?”

“Having a hand in the production of their songs will be helpful for them,” Taekwoon hummed. “They all dabble with lyrics now and then, so it would be a good learning experience.”

“We would love to,” Hyunsik said, and the three others readily agreed.

“Let’s arrange for you to come by sometime next week then, once we have a bit more to show you,” Wonshik said happily.

Sungjae and Sanghyuk fist bumped with a cheer, and Wonshik smiled at the sight. It made him think of his old members, a pang of sadness accompanying the thought. He sometimes missed being a member of _ROVIX_ , missed his members and the life of an idol. It wasn’t often he met up with his former members; they’d been close as a team, but not tight-knitted as _BTOBIX_ seemed to be after a few years of active promotions. However, he was happy where he was, and that was what mattered.

After dinner – and dessert – they gathered outside the building. It had started to rain a bit, a light misting falling from the sky and urging them all to put their hoods up. Wonshik had not been very surprised to see a few fans lingering nearby, watching the group with wide eyes. Whether it was the rain or respect, however, the fans kept their distance, snapping a few pictures from afar but not approaching them. Wonshik was a little relieved at that – fan experiences could be overwhelming for young groups, and at this time of night it was best they all just got on home.

Taekwoon would be following the group to their dorm, and Wonshik would take a taxi to his own place; he’d taken the safe route, just in case their drinks ended up being alcoholic.

“From former idol under Taekwoon’s scrutiny to another,” Wonshik said sagely upon parting, winking at Taekwoon and the members, “if there’s anything you want, blackmail or distract him with a baby animal. It’s a trick I learned back when Taekwoon was our manager. Works every time, I guarantee!”

“He’s lying,” Taekwoon said flatly, taking a swipe at Wonshik’s side; Wonshik sidestepped and laughed.

“One of his soft spots _is_ cute animals, however, so make sure to remember that.”

“We will,” Sanghyuk grinned, sharing looks with his members. Taekwoon groaned and shoved Wonshik towards the awaiting taxi.

“Go home and leave me alone,” he mock grumbled.

“I’m happy for you,” Wonshik announced, opening the door and smiling fondly at Taekwoon. “You’ll be good for them, and I think they’ll be good for you, as well. You deserve it.”

“Get in the car,” Taekwoon snorted, his nose scrunched at the words, and Wonshik laughed as he ducked under the roof of the car to lower himself into the seat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Wonshik hummed, smiling. “Get them home safely. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You, too.”

-

Since their last fight, Wonshik had seen Jaehwan only occasionally on the hallway, but they hadn’t exchanged more than glances, if any at all. Wonshik knew from Taekwoon, who talked with Hakyeon on a near daily basis, that Jaehwan was busy wrapping up his musical, the remaining shows countable on one hand, and on the side he had a single he was currently promoting, as well as appearances in a couple of reality shows and a modelling offer.

And then there was his autobiography, which he worked devotedly on whenever he had holes in his schedule.

The problem with that, Wonshik mused as he watched Jaehwan putter around near the stage, was that it probably left little time to rest. He had already heard Jaehwan cough four times since following Taekwoon backstage, even if he had somehow managed to go through the entire show without coughing even once. His medications probably played a part in that, and, going by the distant sound of a fifth cough, the soothing effects were starting to wear off.

Jaehwan had been a sickly child, prone to colds and coughs, and miserable periods bedridden with the flu. As an adult, he was less susceptible to colds as he had been in his youth, but he was liable to come down with something after long periods of stress and too much work with too little rest in-between. What made it worse was the man’s pride, which didn’t allow him to take time off to rest and reenergise. If anything, it made him work harder, fearing that cancelling a show or appearance for health reasons would somehow make him less wanted. He’d work himself to his death if he thought it would make others happy, because one of his biggest worries was falling out of the public’s grace for his own body’s weakness.

Back when they were together, Wonshik had been keenly aware of Jaehwan’s health, listening for the first signs of a sore throat and looking out for the exhaustion that indicated an oncoming illness, and then he’d be there to coax Jaehwan away from work and into bed, fondly nursing him back to health. Usually, the symptoms had been that of the common cold, with an added fever due to Jaehwan’s weak body, but other times it had almost warranted a trip to the nearest hospital, with Jaehwan throwing up everything he tried to consume and crying from migraines and exhaustion, mumbling and shaking feverishly once he finally managed to fall asleep.

Wonshik had really hated those more severe episodes, because they made him feel useless and anxious.

“You’re staring,” Taekwoon hummed by his side. He followed Wonshik’s line of sight and cocked an eyebrow when he found Jaehwan talking with two co-actors.

“He’s been coughing,” Wonshik observed, tossing his chin in the direction of Jaehwan. “Does Hakyeon know?”

“Worried?” Taekwoon enquired. Wonshik turned around to give him a _look_ , but all that got from Taekwoon was a knowing smile. “Hakyeon is aware. We just talked about it, actually. He hopes Jaehwan’s medications can keep him going for the next couple of days to wrap up the musical, but he’s visibly concerned and watches over him almost as meticulously as you. He doubts he can force Jaehwan to rest until after the shows, however.”

“Because he’s dumb,” Wonshik muttered, turning back in time to watch Jaehwan hide a cough behind his hand again. His co-actress patted his back, earning a grateful smile from Jaehwan. Wonshik frowned. “Stubborn.”

“That sounds like someone else I know.”

Wonshik huffed, and that was when Jaehwan finally turned around, eyes narrowing at the sight of them. He bowed shortly to his co-actors and then headed towards Wonshik and Taekwoon. Wonshik straightened his back, following Jaehwan with his eyes until he came to a stop in front of him.

“Good day, Taekwoon ssi,” Jaehwan greeted. “Congratulations on _BTOBIX_ ’ second win. They’ve worked hard on this comeback, so they deserve the recognition. I hope they are well.”

“Thank you,” Taekwoon said, nodding his head at the younger. “They are busy, but in high-spirits and healthy.”

Jaehwan smiled disarmingly at Taekwoon, before he turned to face Wonshik, the suns in his eyes overtaken by stormy clouds. “Wonshik. Fancy seeing you here.”

“I had business,” Wonshik shrugged, unconsciously giving Jaehwan’s face a careful scrutiny, then the rest of him. He looked pale, fatigue clinging to his stance. “You look like shit.”

Wonshik ignored Taekwoon’s hiss and the slap to his arm, instead watching Jaehwan blink at him, visibly taken aback by Wonshik’s bluntness. Then his lips pursed and he regarded Wonshik with a cool glare, though Hakyeon appeared before he could speak his mind.

The older man greeted Wonshik with one of his sunshine smiles, his hand cupping Jaehwan’s elbow in warning.

“Hi, Hakyeon ssi,” said Wonshik, turning to face the man and smiling. “When is the last show?”

Hakyeon glanced speculatively at Jaehwan, who frowned back, before answering, “Saturday afternoon, at four.”

Wonshik nodded to himself. “Alright. Good. Just three days.”

Taekwoon and Hakyeon exchanged a few words, Jaehwan and Wonshik dutifully pretending the other was not there, before Wonshik and Taekwoon bid their goodbyes and started for the exit.

“Why the sudden interest for Saturday?” Taekwoon asked, watching Wonshik closely from the corners of his eyes as they walked.

Wonshik merely shrugged. “Curious.”

-

Saturday, he went to watch the show alone, and left once he had seen for himself that Jaehwan had regained some colour since their last encounter.

-

_In my life, I’ve had multiple debuts. All just as exciting, and nerve-wracking, and all just as important to the development of my person and career._

_I debuted as the leader of_ ROVIX _and had to take on the different roles and responsibilities that came not only with being a new idol, but being in charge of other new idols. That particular debut was a bit easier, as I was not alone. My other group members, my friends, were just as nervous as I was, and also just as excited. It made it easier to stand on that stage and perform, knowing that while I was technically the one who led the group, I had four members behind me who felt the same way I felt._

_Later on, I got to debut in different parts of the business. As a producer, a composer, a model, all of which were much more independent and a bit more of a struggle to overcome, simply because I had to rely on my own abilities to make a good impression with the fans. I can even add writer, after this book, something far different from anything I’ve ever tried to accomplish outside of lyrics and compositions. But regardless of my experience in any of these fields, I have always tried to do my best in any of these debuts, tried to take it as an opportunity to show another side of myself._

_But not all of my debuts were business related. Some were more personal, and much harder to predict how the fans would take it._

_Like in the second year of_ ROVIX _, when I ‘debuted’ myself as a gay man, and pulled Lee Jaehwan right along with me._

_The result was as you would expect. There had been suspicion right from the start as to my sexual orientation, and when I admitted to it, well, it felt like everything blew up. Some reactions were positive, while others were much harder to swallow. But I had Park Hyosin sajangnim’s support, my parents’, Jaehwan’s, my members’ and our manager’s, and my friends’, and to this day, it still makes me emotional to think about all of those people who stood by me at such a crucial moment in my life._

_For the time that followed wouldn’t be easy, and had I had no one by my side, I wouldn’t have made it._

-

September marked the third month of his autobiography, and the month that he was introduced to Song Kyungil.

A praised author, Kyungil was famous for his way with words, and the current holder of two nominees and wins for _Book of the Year_ since his debut eight years ago. He had had a hand in the editing of a few autobiographies, and it was that which led to Taekwoon contacting him, after he realised how immersed Wonshik had gotten in his book.

To be fair, Wonshik hadn’t expected to actually spend much time doing any sort of thing for the book before he scrapped it; getting back at Jaehwan wasn’t _that_ important – or, at least, he could find less time-consuming ways around it than writing a _book_ that he had little to no interest in.

That, however, had changed. The hours he’d spent on the book in the first month could be counted on his hands, but the next two would require quite a few additional fingers to add up with the time he’d spent poring over books on writing a captivating autobiography and analyses, his own notes and attempts at actual writing strewn all over his desk.

He had come to enjoy the process, taking steps away from his life, himself, to evaluate the events leading up to _now_ , the person he had become as a result of choices he had made and the people he had met. His life, in places, was a chaos of doubts and bouts of anger – others, tranquil periods of joy and contentment.

For this book, he was looking inwards, at himself; his thoughts, emotions, everything that made him _Kim Wonshik_ , and at the world around him. It was refreshing, exhilarating, and slightly frightening. Never before had he evaluated himself like this, and he would be writing some of his innermost thoughts down on paper, to be printed and sold in bookstores for strangers to buy and read.

Taekwoon had arranged a meeting for Wonshik and Kyungil to be formally introduced and discuss Wonshik’s aspirations with his book. At the meeting’s end, Wonshik and Kyungil had come to an agreement that entailed Kyungil’s assistance in the coming months until its release. Wonshik had no experience with writing a book, unlike Kyungil, so he was grateful for the help he’d receive.

And with that, his autobiography had officially become more than just a ploy for revenge.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for how delayed this chapter is. I was waiting for my beta to look it through with me, but as she seems to be swamped at the time being, I today reached the decision that I can’t wait around forever (more than half a year, oops). That isn’t to say this isn’t beta’ed, though – she did read it through, once, but we haven’t done the final thorough edit I usually want before I post anything. Instead I did it alone, and that shall be enough. 
> 
> The next chapter, just like this one, has been finished for more than half a year, and whether or not my beta has time to look it through with me, I promise it shall be uploaded within a fortnight and thus conclude this fic.
> 
> Sorry, again, for the delay – I hope the update makes up for it! Thank you for being patient with me.

Time was a funny thing.

In times of distress and anxiety, each minute could stretch into what felt like an hour, and then there were times of joy and happiness where an hour could pass by in a flash that felt like a minute.

Time was definite; infinite, yet everyone would ultimately reach the point where the last grain of sand slipped through the cracks and everything stopped. Time was deaf to pleas and blind to desperation and numb to touch. Knowing that yesterday would become a memory and tomorrow would forever be an unattainable dream – wasn’t that what drove people, the knowledge that the now was what counted, and making it matter?

Wonshik was sure there were times where he had let the now slip into indifference. There were times he stood still, each second inching by, his existence hardly one outside of the makeshift barriers he created. He had become more isolated, more secluded in his routine, until he almost didn't realise he was doing it.

When was the last time he had gone out with friends that did not include Taekwoon? When was the last time he didn't settle for a night in on his day off? When was the last time he opened up to someone, bared everything in his heart, after Jaehwan?

It had been two years, or twenty-four months, or approximately seven-hundred-and-thirty days, and perhaps that was the problem. There had been no one after Jaehwan. Only Wonshik, and even when he was alone he was never truly himself.

Maybe it was that thought that drove him out tonight, that need he felt in his heart that told him he was at a standstill while the rest of the world continued past. Regardless of the motive, he still found himself sitting on an uncomfortable stool at a bar.

Neglecting the vibrant beverage between his hands, Wonshik allowed himself to slowly sink into memories. It was rare that he did so, but already the blood thrumming through his veins buzzed from the alcohol he had knocked down upon arriving at the bar, and he figured, in his slightly intoxicated state, when would there ever be a better time to reflect on the past?

His memories of Jaehwan were always right there, lurking just below the surface, ready to assault him the very heartbeat he let down his guard. It was exhausting to keep them at bay all the time.

He could admit to himself, during these moments of indulgence, that he missed Jaehwan. There were incidents he’d prefer to be without, fights and arguments he’d much rather entirely erase from history – but amongst them was Jaehwan with that sunny smile Wonshik had so loved, back then. He recalled late nights of talking and giggling, but also heated kisses and hands that left fire on skin in their wake.

In the aftermath of their split, the bad memories had been all he let himself remember. He would go through great lengths to hold onto them, reining them in and pinning them to the walls in his mind, to remind himself of the reasons why he and Jaehwan had broken up.

Because it had hurt to lie in bed, alone. It had hurt to want Jaehwan back, sheets long soaked with his tears and wrinkly with how tightly he grasped at the fabric to stop himself from reaching for his phone. It had hurt, knowing it would bring nothing but more cracks in his heart, should he manage to get back together with the man he had loved so deeply, because there was nothing left for them.

Despite all the hurt, he had wanted Jaehwan back for a while after their official split. Only after the insults had started did that desire flee back into the safety of his heart, and had since simply made itself known through small sparks that were nearly too weak to really feel whenever he stumbled upon a fond memory.

Wonshik wanted to love again, and be loved. He needed someone he could bare his heart for once more, someone he could hold and comfort and be himself with. A partner he could depend on to be there for him when he needed the support, just like Jaehwan had once been. He was certain he still had some of the encouraging sticky note messages that Jaehwan had been fond of leaving him in the early mornings where he would’ve left for schedules first.

He wondered, dimly, if Jaehwan had also kept messages like that from him hidden away in a box under his bed.

Unless Jaehwan had moved on for good. There had been no news of him dating anyone – only the fleeting rumours that always arose online, like with Wonshik and Taekwoon – but, Wonshik figured, not without a slight pang in his chest, perhaps Jaehwan had simply learned from his mistakes. After all, Wonshik would always blame their decision to announce their relationship to the world a little bit for the way it had eventually ended.

If there were one thing he had learned from that disaster, it was to keep a relationship secret until it was stable enough to withstand the pressure, from within as well as outside. Back then, they had both been busy with schedules, pressured by expectations and stress; it had been another factor working against them.

If Jaehwan were in a relationship, chances were no one knew save for a choice few Jaehwan considered his most loyal friends. Hakyeon would be in the knowing, no doubt, but Wonshik knew the man well enough to know that he wouldn’t tell Taekwoon about it. Then again, maybe even Taekwoon would hide it if he thought it was best for Wonshik.

In short, Wonshik had no way of knowing if Jaehwan were still as marked by their split as Wonshik was himself.

He tried to drown the sudden feeling of patheticness trying to worm its way into his chest in the alcohol sloshing in his glass.

A hand fell onto his shoulder, and the glass nearly slipped from his hand from surprise.

“Oi, you’re looking all morose here by yourself,” a familiar voice drawled next to him.

Wonshik snorted, turning to level his ex-bandmate with a cool look. “And whose fault is that for showing up just now?”

Taemin chuckled and sank onto the bar chair next to Wonshik, spinning around to look amusedly at him. “Ah, our fearless leader is moping.”

“It’s rude, really,” another voice piped up, and Wonshik fought back the urge to roll his eyes; of course the duo would turn up together. They had always been the ones their fans screamed the loudest at whenever they were being risky with their hands or whispering together. “You should be just about bursting from the uncontainable elation of seeing your sorely missed old teammates again. Not glaring sullenly into an empty glass of what once held alcohol.”

“I am _not_ glaring sullenly into an empty glass,” Wonshik defended, eyes narrowing when Jongin and Taemin merely shared a _look_ at that. Really, they had always been so obnoxiously in sync.

“Well, regardless, we’re here to liven up the party,” Jongin announced with a casual shrug, finding a seat next to Taemin. “Where’s the maknae? Sheesh, of course he’s showing up late. Ever since his solo career skyrocketed, he’s been too busy to so much as remember a text once in a while. If not for the constant articles online, I wouldn’t know if he were still breathing.”

“Ah,” Wonshik said, “that reminds me. Dokyun texted me an hour or so ago to say that he was going to be held up filming for his new drama, so he hoped we’d have fun without him.”

Taemin made a disapproving tsking sound, shaking his head along with it. “Oh, you bet we’ll have fun without him. With no adult to watch over us, we can drink until we burst – oh, I’m going to send him Snaps!” he said gleefully, swiftly finding his phone. “I’ll document all the fun we’re having without him –”

“When Jeongguk arrives, we can take a group Snap and send it to him,” Jongin hummed, hooking his chin over Taemin’s shoulder to follow whatever he was doing on his phone with interest. Wonshik recognised the Snapchat layout from his position, and shook his head fondly at their antics.

“Kids,” he mused, and both Taemin and Jongin’s head snapped up at the sound. Jongin snorted and Taemin cackled, spinning around to wave over the bartender.

“Oh, he’s getting sappy already,” he said, and Wonshik’s face contorted in a grimace. “We need to get you drunk. You’re at the stage where emotions – ooh.” He glanced knowingly at Wonshik before he turned to rattle their drink orders off to the bartender, the look mirrored on Jongin’s face once whatever also occurred to him.

“That’s why you were so gloomy when we found you,” guessed Jongin. “You were reminiscing, and I dare say I know who about.”

“Stop that,” Wonshik warned, but it held no heat. He should have known they’d see right through him. They always did.

“We should find you a one-night stand,” Taemin declared, turning back to the conversation while the bartender took care of their drinks.

“You know I don’t do one-night stands,” Wonshik deadpanned, and Jongin gave the kind of sigh befitting one carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. Jongin and Taemin were a force to be reckoned with. They always came up with the absolute worst of ideas, and occasionally had even managed to coerce poor, unsuspecting Jeongguk into their schemes.

Though, according to Taemin and Jongin, Jeongguk was even worse than the two of them when he was in the mood. Wonshik had never quite believed it.

“Okay, so no one-night stands.” Taemin shrugged, busying himself with passing around shots. “We can do no one-night stands. Let’s just enjoy the night, yeah? We can crash at yours, can’t we, Leader? It’s been months since we last met up for drinks and to catch up.”

Wonshik felt partially at fault for that, and he nodded his agreement. He caught the look of excitement from the other two as he did so and smiled into his glass as they took a group shot. He had missed this. As he set the glass back onto the desk, his eyes found Jeongguk’s over the giggling pair in front of him. He beamed and waved the younger over, who quickly pushed through the throngs of people and found his way to them.

“Jeonggukie!” Taemin greeted upon sight, reaching out his arms and catching Jeongguk around the waist. He dragged him into a hug, patting his back as he cooed. “You’ve gotten fitter, young maknae. And did you get taller, too? Why are all maknaes always towering over their bandmates? Is there some rule for that?”

“I’m long past my growth spurt, hyung,” Jeongguk pointed out, the edge of his mouth twitching with mirth. “Perhaps it’s you who’s shrinking in your old age?”

“No respect for your elders!” Taemin gasped, shoving a cackling Jeongguk away. “I demand a punishment – here, take the shot!”

Jeongguk accepted the glass and tipped it back with a smile. Taemin huffed, but it was all for show, and no one had any doubts about that.

Their maknae grinned at Jongin and Wonshik, and then Taemin was gathering them to take that Snap and send it to Dokyun.

“The light is shit,” he remarked with a put-off frown, but they eventually managed to take a good enough picture of them all to send off to their oldest ex-member.

“Send it to me, as well,” Wonshik said, drawing a quiet laugh from Jeongguk.

“What, so you can save it on your phone?”

“He’ll probably upload it online tomorrow, after looking it over lovingly like a proud parent,” Jongin nodded, watching as Taemin tapped away on his phone.

“Oh, shut it, you two,” Wonshik mock grumbled.

“There, sent,” Taemin said over them, grinning in satisfaction just as Wonshik felt the notification tick into his phone in his pocket. He got it out to save the photo lest he forgot come morning with a hangover, for yes, he did want to look at it later, and perhaps he also did plan on uploading it on social media. Eventually.

_#Somuchfunwithoutyouhyung! But pls hang out with us next time – we miss you!_ said the caption, and Wonshik smiled as he took a screenshot before putting his phone away. Next time, they’d plan a night out with all of them present. Perhaps a movie night. He was starting to feel too old for drinking.

But so long as they had a good night, Wonshik wouldn’t complain – much; if he had the hangover from hell tomorrow, they’d hear from it.

“All right!” Taemin shouted, “more shots!”

-

_Following the end of_ ROVIX _, I was suddenly alone in a way I hadn’t really been before, and doubt trailed my every move._

_It was a decision we reached together to disband, and it wasn’t made over a couple of days, but rather half a year. Our last album came out two months prior to our disbandment, and at that time, all the talk of separating made us exceptionally mindful of every little detail. We knew this would probably be our last album together, so we put everything into making it special, for us and everyone else._

_I won’t lie and say the prospect of disbanding didn’t cause fights between us, especially when it was first brought on the table. We had been a band for five whole years at that point, and fairly successful, so why stop? Not all of us wanted to face it, and so we fought._

_Letting go is hard. It isn’t something you just do when it’s something you care a great deal about. But at some point, you also reach the conclusion that letting go is for the better, and that’s what we did. We were growing up, and growing apart – and I hesitate with that word, because we still to this day meet up and reminisce and enjoy each other’s company._

_We still cared about each other. But our time as a band together had come to an end._

_Was it wrong of me as a leader to allow us to reach the point where we disbanded? Could I have done something to prevent it? Perhaps. I will stand my ground, however. I think it was for the best. Does that make me a bad leader?_

_I’m not sure. But I am happy, and I think my members are, too._

-

Kyungil was devoted to his line of work, which was a quality Wonshik acknowledged and held in high regard. Passionate people tended to evoke passionate work-ethic, at least in Wonshik. Banished was the thought of half-hearted efforts; if Kyungil deemed it necessary to stay up until the early hours to proofread, he damn right would, and Wonshik would feel compelled to stay up with him and throw ideas back and forth. It wasn’t that Wonshik minded, really, because he was accustomed to hectic schedules and staying up late when inspiration hit.

Upon reading what Wonshik had written so far, Kyungil had sat back, given a nervous Wonshik a contemplative once-over, and then turned back to the computer. In the end, he had erased more than half of it, and when Wonshik had protested, he had spun around in his chair to regard him seriously.

“Look,” he had said, “it has to be real. People who buy this book do not want a character. They don’t want Ravi. They want Wonshik. And you are the only person who knows Wonshik’s thoughts and feelings. You just… You have to write what you truly feel, and leave it out on the table. If you don’t, it just comes out as fake. I’m not telling you to write your deepest secrets – and if you’ve killed someone, leave that out. This is an autobiography, not a confession – but you have to be _you_.”

And who was Wonshik, really? Ravi was only a part of him. He had been leaving out entire novels of information without realising he was doing it, all for the sake of his entertainment persona.

Thus, he had gone silent, mulling it over, which Kyungil had appeared satisfied with, for he had turned back to the computer and started typing. Wonshik had been alone with his contemplation.

When Wonshik had been a bit clearer as to where he was going with this book, he had called Kyungil for advice. Kyungil was a wonderful sparring partner, and Wonshik appreciated having someone like Kyungil to guide him in his writing; Wonshik wouldn’t feel safer in anyone else’s hands.

Another thing Wonshik appreciated about Kyungil was his patience and understanding nature. It never got any easier to talk about what he and Jaehwan had been, but his part in Wonshik’s life was too great to ignore. There was no way, Kyungil pointed out, that Wonshik could simply skip over that time, for while it hurt, it had had a significant impact. He would have to address it.

“You need to figure out how you feel,” Kyungil said one evening, chin in his palm as he watched Wonshik jot down notes for the book, “and consider the backlash. I’ve told you before that you need to be real, which I trust you know by now, but it’s always a risk. Are you any closer to knowing what you want to write?”

“I think so,” Wonshik mused, looking up shortly from his notes. “I… don’t think I can write anything but the truth, really. And I think that’s for the best. I won’t feel good about this book otherwise.”

It wasn’t rare for Kyungil to smile, but this time, the stretch of lips and the light in his eyes settled something in Wonshik. He was doing the right thing, he felt.

“No one of us knows what Lee might write,” said Kyungil, unfolding his hands and sitting back in the couch, “but if he goes ahead with his threat, it is you who will emerge as the winner of this battle, not him, because people are not going to buy into the insults when you are being completely genuine.”

Wonshik knew he was right. It was better to be honest, even if he felt like a fool in the end. At least he would know where he stood with Jaehwan, without spikes of doubt, and perhaps that would be the kick he needed to get over him.

Douse those embers once and for all.

-

Wonshik often had this sneaking suspicion that irony followed him around, waiting in the shadows to make itself known. Like the time he found himself on the cover of a popular magazine with the headline _Get the Look!_ , when he had been wearing one of Dokyun’s jackets that day, or when the first hit song he ever wrote was initially rejected by the company, only to be accepted later and become an instant hit. Thus, it made sense for him to lend his voice to a love song and show up to the set of the music video that would have Jaehwan as the lead actor and love interest.

It wasn’t that he had been completely unprepared for the sight of his ex smiling disarmingly at the female lead, Park Junghwa, however, for Heeyeon had informed him about her choice of leads for her music video as soon as she and the producer had decided on them. She was always so involved with the production of her music videos, both with storyline and casting, and it didn’t surprise him at all that she would know the minute Jaehwan was confirmed. She had even been considerate enough to suggest Wonshik’s scenes be filmed the next day, but he had shot that down firmly; he knew of the efforts that went into these things, and he wasn’t about to give them even more work for such unprofessional reasons.

If anything, Wonshik was probably blowing it out of proportion. He and Jaehwan had hardly spoken a word to each other over the last month, even if they’d passed one another in the hallways a couple of times. Who was to say they’d so much as give each other the time of day now? When one was filming, the other was needed elsewhere.

They would most likely not even stand in close proximity. Everything would be perfectly fine. Wonshik could be an adult.

The music video was in part meant as a tribute to Heeyeon’s fans, thanking them for their continued love and support following her debut. He and Heeyeon would film a couple of solos and joint scenes, portraying only themselves in the roles of rapper and singer, which required nothing much from Wonshik, appearance wise; a little bit of BB-cream, a casual set of clothes, and he was good to go.

He mostly stayed by Heeyeon’s side, when she wasn’t buzzing around like a bee, when Jaehwan and Junghwa were filming, chatting lowly so as to not disturb the filming crew. Wonshik, so used to Hakyeon tailing Jaehwan wherever he went, was puzzled at the man’s noticeable absence, and eventually had to ask Heeyeon if she knew anything when the man still hadn’t shown up after an hour.

“Oh, Hakyeon dropped Jaehwan off, but had to leave for a meeting just before you arrived,” Heeyeon said, attention split between the acting before them and Wonshik. “He was upset that the higher-ups hadn’t agreed to push back the meeting, and left under protests and heartfelt curses.”

She side-eyed Wonshik, the corners of her lips pulled down in a frown. “Jaehwan wasn’t feeling well this morning, Hakyeon told me, but he stubbornly refused to stay at home.” A tiny, fond smile adorned her pretty face for a moment. “That’s very typical of Jaehwan, isn’t it?”

It was. She would know, for she was a close friend of Jaehwan’s, had known him for longer than Wonshik. It had been Jaehwan who had introduced her to Wonshik early into their friendship, and they had clicked well. Consequently, she, as all their mutual friends, had been caught in the crossfire when Jaehwan and Wonshik split up. She was more confrontational about it than Hongbin, though, if mindful of their wounds, and she’d be one of the first to tell them off if they behaved out of turn.

“He appears well enough,” she continued, and Wonshik reluctantly found his eyes straying to Jaehwan, habits that had been buried together with their relationship struggling to resurface to start looking for the tell-tale signs of illness in Jaehwan’s motions, all the warning signals he had gotten so used to heeding to. “He has been sitting down more between takes, though, and he’s been less chatty with the crew. He’s exhausted.”

“He’s working too hard,” Wonshik agreed. Neither pursued the topic past that.

The director’s voice announced the next scene, and Wonshik low-key followed Jaehwan with his eyes as he left the set to find somewhere to sit. A staff appeared next to him within heartbeats with a bottle of water that Jaehwan accepted with a kind smile and what must’ve been words of gratitude, albeit Wonshik was too far away to catch them.

Heeyeon’s gentle hand on his elbow brought him out of thoughts and he smiled down at her, ignoring the inquiring look she regarded him with as they went to get ready for their scene.

It went without a hitch, as did the next two, but then Jaehwan suddenly seemed to lose his footing in the middle of filming. Junghwa broke character to reach for him, although he had already caught himself against the desk.

“I’m okay,” he insisted breathily, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “Just give me a moment. I will finish my scenes, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” Heeyeon asked. She regarded Jaehwan warily, brows furrowed in concern. “I am not interested in seeing you pass out, Jaehwan-ah. Please be considerate. If you are unwell, I want you to go home. No one will hold it against you.”

“I’m continuing,” Jaehwan stated firmly, straightening with a deep breath. First then did he open his eyes, squinting a bit at the light. “Can we start over with the scene? I promise I’ll do better.”

Heeyeon caught his eyes for a moment, her own narrowed, but then she turned to nod at the director. “All right.”

“I apologise for the interruption,” Jaehwan said with a slight bow – he tried to hide the wobble in the motion, but Wonshik caught it – before moving back into place.

Heeyeon returned to Wonshik as the scene started anew. “I should’ve said no,” she mused quietly.

Wonshik didn’t say anything as he watched over Jaehwan and gnawed at his lower lip. He had been right by Jaehwan’s side far too many times to keep up the pretence of not caring at least a little bit. He had been there when sickness brought out shivers and cold sweat on Jaehwan’s pale skin, had cuddled under the covers with him and fussed over him. He had held him when he cried over headaches, massaging his scalp in an attempt to soothe him whilst they waited for the painkillers to kick in, had sat with him and caressed his back as he threw up into a bowl or the toilet.

Jaehwan might not be Wonshik’s favourite person anymore, but it still didn’t sit well with him to see him like this.

It didn’t come as much of a surprise when Jaehwan collapsed after his last scene, this time in a dead faint. Fortunately for him, staff caught him on the way down and assured the descend was gentle as they lowered him onto the floor. Wonshik found his feet taking him towards Jaehwan, Heeyeon just a step ahead of him. Two staffs were fanning Jaehwan with magazines, another seemingly checking his temperature and pulse.

“Have someone call Hakyeon,” Wonshik murmured to Heeyeon, who nodded and fished up her own phone from her pocket, fingers nimbly skirting over the screen to find Hakyeon’s contact information as she crouched by Jaehwan’s side.

Wonshik waited, arms folded over his chest, hands fisted, but after the second attempt, Heeyeon glanced over her shoulders and shook her head. It appeared Hakyeon was out of reach.

“Take him to the breakroom,” the director called, and two men were quick to step forward to carry out the instruction. The director exchanged a few words with Heeyeon and a couple of others while Wonshik stayed behind, aware of the stares from the rest of the crew and growing more and more uneasy by the second.

“I’ll keep trying to reach Hakyeon,” Heeyeon announced, leaving the director to talk with the others and coming to stand in front of Wonshik. “If I can’t –”

“I’ll film my last scene,” Wonshik interjected, his words stilted, slow. “I have only one left, right?” At Heeyeon’s affirmation, he drew in a long breath, reaching a decision he may or may not come to regret later. “If you haven’t gotten a hold of Hakyeon by then, I’ll take Jaehwan home. I know the process, after all, and will make sure he’s all right until Hakyeon finally picks up his damn phone.”

“You’d really take him home?”

Wonshik frowned at that, but met her gaze levelly. “I’m not a terrible person, noona. I’m just saying I’m the best option without Hakyeon here. I know what medicine to give Jaehwan, and I know when his symptoms require medical attention – but so long as he comes to soon, hospital won’t be necessary. I have done this before, which cannot be said for anyone else here, save you, perhaps.”

Heeyeon nodded along to his words, clearly considering his arguments. “I suppose you are right,” she murmured. “Okay. Go talk to the director about your scene – I’ll go check on Jaehwan and try calling Hakyeon again.”

Wonshik’s last scene was pretty straightforward and over in little more than ten minutes. He thanked the director and the crew before heading to the breakroom. Heeyeon was sitting next to Jaehwan, whose chair was placed next to the wall so that he could lean against it. His eyes opened half-way at the sound of the door opening, but he did little more than frown at Wonshik before closing them again. Wonshik turned to give the phone in Heeyeon’s hand a questioning look, but she shook her head.

“I’ve tried to call him three times,” she sighed. “It would seem he muted his phone or something. I had taken him for one who would’ve insisted on having it near in case anything happened, considering his concern for Jaehwan.”

She stood from her seat, eyes on the screen as she typed something. “Does Hakyeon have your number? I’m texting him to say that you’ll take Jaehwan home and that he should call you when he sees this.”

Wonshik shook his head.

“Okay.” She finished typing the message and put her phone back into her pocket, gaze moving back to Wonshik. “I’ll go out so you can get dressed,” she said, and once she had left, Wonshik did just that.

He packed Jaehwan’s things as well as his own, glancing at the other man every now and then. Jaehwan remained quiet, eyes closed. Wonshik suspected he might be dizzy; it seemed to come as a package deal.

Wonshik bid the crew goodbye on the way out, and even Jaehwan, with Heeyeon by his side to support him, insisted on a bow and a quiet apology. In the car, Heeyeon helped Jaehwan into the passenger seat while Wonshik got behind the wheel and started the engine. He then turned to watch Heeyeon, who smiled at him.

“Take care of Jaehwan-ah and yourself, Wonshik-ah,” she said as parting, before turning a slightly narrowed look at Jaehwan. “I told you this would happen. Learn to take better care of yourself, okay?” She waited until she received a nod and a quiet promise from Jaehwan before adding, “Thank you both for being in my music video. Get better soon, Jaehwan-ah.”

She closed the door and waved them goodbye as Wonshik backed out of the lot, and then it was onwards to Jaehwan’s place. Wonshik kept an eye on both Jaehwan and the road as he drove, knowing instinctively where to turn; two years weren’t anywhere near enough for him to forget the way to Jaehwan’s home, having almost lived there in intervals.

Jaehwan was starting to look a little more aware, and less like he might collapse again any moment. It was a small relief.

The twenty minutes’ ride to Jaehwan’s place was done in silence, sans the low music playing from the radio. Wonshik thought Jaehwan was feeling a mix of miffed and confused about the whole thing, but the reason for him being quiet could most probably be credited to him still feeling disoriented and sick.

He had with few words insisted on walking from the car to the front door without Wonshik’s help, but Wonshik still stayed near in case he suddenly keeled over; it had happened before, so Wonshik was taking no chances.

The memories assaulting him from every corner of his mind the moment he stepped over the threshold to Jaehwan’s home brought him to a complete halt, briefly taken aback by the memories and the ache in his chest that came along with them. He hadn’t been fully prepared for that, and he hesitated before closing the door softly behind him.

He would follow through with this. There was no going back now. He was here, and he would stay here until Hakyeon called him and told him it’d be okay to leave, or until the man himself arrived.

He was distracted from the feelings accumulating in his chest by the sound of meowing, followed by a fluffy, sand-coloured cat rounding the corner of the hallway and approaching him curiously.

“A cat?” he murmured and sank into a crouch. “I don’t remember…” He trailed off, holding out his hand for the cat to sniff to.

Jaehwan snorted by his side, leaning against the wall as he took off his shoes. “Yes, well,” he breathed, sounding reluctant to talk, whether that be due to Wonshik’s presence or sickness, “it has been a while since you stepped foot in here. I got her, ah… a few months later.”

“A few months after our split,” Wonshik hummed, mouth curving when the cat pushed against his hand, demanding to be pet.

“Yes,” Jaehwan said tersely, crossing his arms and looking down at Wonshik, who paid the glare directed at him little mind as he nuzzled the animal under her chin. She had started purring. “Well, aren’t you going to leave now that you have oh so graciously made sure I returned home safely?”

“I’m not leaving,” Wonshik murmured, finally sparing Jaehwan a glance when the man huffed. “At least not before Hakyeon calls me and tells me it’s all right to leave.”

“I would like to go lie down now.”

“No one is stopping you.”

“I don’t want you here,” Jaehwan snapped, growing more and more frustrated. “And stop petting Aegi.”

“I think she likes me, though,” Wonshik shrugged. He couldn’t resist smiling again when she butted her head against his ankle. “She’s affectionate.”

“Wonshik,” Jaehwan hissed, and Wonshik looked up as he wobbled in place, “get the _fuck_ out –”

Wonshik caught him before he hit the floor, and he laughed with his face against Wonshik’s chest, his hands gripping Wonshik’s arms tightly. The sound of his laughter was _off_ , however, and it worried Wonshik. He sensed that if he were to let go of Jaehwan, the man would collapse, unable to stand on his own.

“Hey,” he called softly.

“I am feeling _so_ unwell,” Jaehwan complained into Wonshik’s sweatshirt, still with faint laughter in his voice. “Everything is distorted, I feel like I’m going to throw up, I am _freezing_ , and _you_ are here. Why are you here, Wonshik? I don’t want you here.”

He whined, slumping further in Wonshik’s hold. “My head is _killing_ me, oh, fuck.”

Ignoring the cat meowing for attention by his feet, Wonshik worried his lip and looked down at Jaehwan. He needed to get Jaehwan’s medications; Hakyeon had probably given him some earlier, but they’d be wearing off by now, he guessed. They would make him sluggish and whiny, but they’d take away the pain and possibly the nausea, as well as fight to stabilise his temperature. Wonshik also needed to get him to lie down and rest; stressing over Wonshik’s presence probably wasn’t doing much good, but _that_ was something Wonshik wasn’t going to do anything about for a while. He’d just have to pick his battles, for now.

“Come,” he murmured, carefully steering Jaehwan in the direction of his bedroom, “you need to lie down. I’ll go find your medications once you’re in bed, so just try and endure it for a little longer.” Jaehwan didn’t protest.

They reached Jaehwan’s bedroom, and Wonshik followed Jaehwan inside. He helped him get comfortable under the duvet, his body trembling with the fever as he buried his face in the pillow. Wonshik fetched another blanket from the cupboard in the corner and spread it over him, and then went around the bed with the intention to draw the curtains. Darkness would help.

“I’ll get you some water and the pills,” Wonshik said as he rounded the bed again, glancing once at Jaehwan before leaving the room and closing the door. In the kitchen, he grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets and moved to the faucet to fill it with water. Old habits had all too easily taken control of his body and led him to the bathroom, where he found the medications in their usual place. Not much seemed to have changed since Wonshik left.

Jaehwan was still buried beneath the covers when Wonshik returned, and he emitted a truly pitiful noise of protest when Wonshik told him to take the pills and the water, but he eventually peeked out, squinting up at Wonshik. He accepted the medication and drank the water, and then he got back under the duvet and blanket, facing away from Wonshik.

When Wonshik returned after refilling the glass, Jaehwan was asleep.

It was half an hour before Hakyeon called. The meeting had run late, but he assured Wonshik he’d be there in fifteen minutes. Wonshik sat back and continued to pet the cat in his lap as he waited.

It was odd, being back at Jaehwan’s place after two years. He remembered most things vividly, with a few changes here and there, like the new couch he had discovered during his tour of the apartment after he had soaked a towel and laid it on Jaehwan’s forehead. There were paintings Wonshik had never seen before, ones that carried Jaehwan’s distinctive artistic style. He was glad to see Jaehwan hadn’t stopped painting.

Hakyeon arrived later, asking about Jaehwan’s condition and checking on him. Once he had made sure Jaehwan’s fever hadn’t climbed and was firmly cocooned in blankets to keep him warm, the towel on his forehead newly changed, he joined Wonshik in the kitchen.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” Hakyeon started, smiling kindly at him. “I imagine it can’t have been easy, what with you two usually going at each other’s throats. I’m sorry for being out of reach. I tried to check my phone regularly, but couldn’t keep up with it.”

He sagged in his seat, chuckling lowly. “I nearly had a heart attack at the sight of so many unanswered calls. I almost worked myself into a state of panic before I saw Jung Heeyeon’s message.”

Wonshik’s lips curved in a smile. “You are usually by his side,” he hummed, nuzzling Aegi under her chin. He was quickly falling for her charms; she was much like her owner in that sense. “It figures something keeps you away on the one day that he collapses on set.”

“I’d even been so aware of it this morning,” Hakyeon groaned, shaking his head. “He’s such a brat for not knowing when to call it quits. It makes us all worry.”

_It makes us all worry._ Wonshik was starting to feel out of place, sitting there in the kitchen and talking about Jaehwan and his well-being as though nothing had changed. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to _worry_. Not anymore.

He cleared his throat, aware of Hakyeon watching him as he gently nudged the cat down from his lap before standing, much to her disgruntlement. “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he murmured, flashing Hakyeon a slight smile. “I’ll go now. He didn’t want me here to start with, so.”

“Wonshik,” Hakyeon called just as Wonshik started for the door. “Why did you stay? Why would you help him, after all the shit you two have put each other through?”

The question flustered him, and he paused at the doorway with a hand on the wood, like the question had thrown him off balance. He wasn’t sure what to say – if he even wanted to say anything at all. He wasn’t sure about many things.

Hakyeon didn’t press him for an answer, which was almost a first for him; the man was notorious for never backing down, pushing until he got the answers he wanted. But not now. Perhaps he wasn’t really expecting one. Or perhaps he realised just how complicated this was for Wonshik.

Wonshik lingered for a few breaths, before saying softly, “Because it’s Jaehwan.”

Hakyeon gave no verbal answer, and Wonshik didn’t look back to see what kind of expression he was making.

-

_I have a confession to make._

_When I started this idea out, I had not envisioned sitting here in front of the computer screen with the cursor blinking patiently, if insistently, at me, waiting for me to get a move on and start typing._

_I wanted to write about all the things that made Jaehwan a bad person, and an even worse partner. I wanted to, well, drag him through the mud. I wanted to tarnish his good name and make you all realise how flawed and unpleasant he really is, how completely miserable I was around him._

_But I am no liar._

_Sure, he snores in his sleep, and he can be quite a pest, but honestly? Jaehwan is the nicest person I’ve ever had the honour to meet and be with, for how long it lasted._


	4. Chapter Four

Taekwoon was having a field day, or so Wonshik suspected.

“This article seems to believe the two of you have been keeping your relationship a secret this whole time,” Taekwoon hummed, never once looking up from his phone, the screen’s light painting his face in a pale blue. “Hilarious. Someone even commented, _‘I knew they never actually broke up! This is SE’s doing, a ploy to gain media coverage. I always thought their fights were fake.’_ ”

Wonshik rolled his eyes. “Of course. _Fake._ ”

He had known from the moment he suggested taking Jaehwan home that it wouldn’t go unnoticed and that the Internet would write about it for the rest of the week, theorising and speculating the nature behind his actions. There were even a couple of fussy pictures of him and Jaehwan in the car.

“Huh,” Taekwoon continued, scrolling a bit further. “Someone here thinks you’re both straight, and your relationship has been a lie. Their argument is that you’ve both been seen with women. Supposedly dates.”

“Yeah. Straight as a cooked noodle.” Wonshik nodded sagely. “It’s called being _bi_ , sweetheart. And in my case, it’s called having friends of the opposite sex.”

“You still haven’t told me why.”

“Why I have friends of the opposite sex?” Wonshik was being difficult on purpose. Taekwoon _had_ burst into his studio earlier, unannounced, and had proceeded to read up from some of the most ludicrous articles and fan accounts that had cropped up since last night. It was only fair that Wonshik made this harder for him when he insisted on interrupting.

Taekwoon glanced up momentarily from his phone to deign Wonshik with a rather unimpressed look. “Don’t be impudent, you brat. You know what I meant.”

Wonshik sighed, arms unfolding as he gave a shrug. “Jaehwan was sick, and I helped him. Big deal.”

“It _is_ a big deal, Wonshik,” Taekwoon insisted, locking his phone and putting it on the desk to regard Wonshik contemplatively. “I am not looking to judge you for your actions, and you know that. In fact, I am rather pleased that you chose to disregard the sore state of your relationship to get Jaehwan home safely. Hakyeon even texted me –” he pointedly ignored Wonshik snarky remark about his and Hakyeon’s relationship, “– to tell you thanks, again, for caring.”

He leaned forward in his seat, settling his chin on his palms and blinking slowly up at Wonshik. “But why did you do it?”

“We’ve been friends for years, hyung, and I like to think you know me –”

“Yet you’re not telling me everything.” Taekwoon’s brows were drawn. “I know I’m your closest friend, and I know you’re a very private person. You aren’t one to share anything with a stranger on the street, and you’re hesitant with your emotions even around familiar faces. Sometimes, it seems, even around me.”

When Wonshik remained quiet, gaze locked on some point past Taekwoon’s shoulder, he continued in a softer voice, “I won’t push you to tell me anything. That’s not what I want. But I can tell something’s bothering you, or at least that there’s something on your mind, and I just want you to know that I’m here. I’m here if you need me.”

Wonshik wet his lips, meeting Taekwoon’s sincere eyes hesitantly. “Is it stupid?”

Taekwoon arched one eyebrow. “Is what stupid?”

“That I still care.” Wonshik swallowed, gaze lowering to his feet. “About Jaehwan. Part of me… at least, still cares. I couldn’t just leave yesterday without doing something. I know how hard he works himself, pushing and pushing until his body all but shuts down.”

Taekwoon hummed. “What a match, huh.” He straightened in his seat, levelling Wonshik with an appraising look. “For what it’s worth, I always figured you did. Care, I mean. And it does you no good to keep raising your hackles around him, which I’ve been trying to make you realise. It’s only going to hurt both you and him, in the end. It already does.”

“I know,” Wonshik breathed, tiredly leaning his hip against the desk; he should really get another chair than just the one that Taekwoon was currently occupying. “It’s just…”

“It is difficult, I know, but it serves no purpose to stay rooted in the past,” Taekwoon said. “Don’t let memories hold you back.”

Wonshik’s head dropped back against the wall, and he closed his eyes for a bit, just breathing. Taekwoon didn’t continue; he had always been particularly aware of Wonshik’s moods, and knowing when to sit back and just let him think.

Perhaps… Wonshik should learn to let go. He knew it would be no easy thing to do, but it had already been so long. The embers in his heart wouldn’t be doused with just water, no matter the amount, and steering clear of Jaehwan would be a tremendous effort, for though they fought when their ways crossed, it was still a way of getting close to Jaehwan. Insults and anger was only an attempt at having the slightest semblance of a conversation.

He wondered if he were really ready to move on.

-

When Wonshik ran into Jaehwan nearly a month later – it was amazing sometimes how long you could avoid one another when in the same entertainment – there was no sign of sickness. Jaehwan was back to his old snarky self, insults at the ready, and Wonshik figured they would slip back into their usual routine. Wonshik assumed he’d be ready to give back as much as he took, counters flying from his lips for every word Jaehwan said.

Except this time, it was different. This time, it hurt too much.

About the only comeback he could muster up to Jaehwan insinuating Wonshik’s autobiography would flop was the ever-eloquent _Shut up._ And even that did not hold the heat it usually would in any other situation involving his ex.

He just didn’t want to fight.

Jaehwan noticed it, he thought, if the way he paused were any indication, but he didn’t let it hold him back from another jab or two at his pride, words Wonshik hardly heard. They went their separate ways fairly quickly, Wonshik not in the mood to fight and Jaehwan not in the mood to push him into one.

Later, Wonshik would blame his lack of response to the baiting on the approaching release date of his autobiography, hardly more than a week after Jaehwan’s was set to hit stores. He had been working hard to finish his writing, knowing the deadline was only a couple of months away and Kyungil would need time to go through it for a final edit before it was sent to the presses. He had more to worry about than what clever insults he could say back to Jaehwan. He didn’t much care for what the man had to say, anyways.

Though that didn’t stop him from preordering Jaehwan’s book, despite the growing dread at the thought of reading it.

-

_Who am I?_

_If you saw me on the street, I could be nobody, a stranger who might resemble someone you saw once. But on stage I am Ravi, former leader and rapper of_ ROVIX _. I am an artist, a model. I am a son and a brother, a friend, and a partner._

_But, above all those, I am Kim Wonshik._

_I am me, and that is who I will always be._

-

One foggy Wednesday morning, Wonshik brought home a wrapped package the size of a book. He put it down on his desk, and then proceeded to meet up with Taekwoon for a late breakfast followed by hours in the studio. It was past midnight when he returned home, and then he merely stared at the wrapped book for a minute straight before going to bed.

The next two days continued in much the same manner, and the book remained on his desk, collecting dust while gaining many contemplative looks. Once or twice, Wonshik would even reach out to touch it, a finger sliding across the paper, but then he would draw back as if burned and turn away.

He took to avoiding the social media like the plague, for he knew Jaehwan’s fans, and probably a few of his own, would have already read Jaehwan’s book and would voice their opinions. There was probably a _fanwar_ going on, because Wonshik’s fans were loyal and protective and wouldn’t stand for Jaehwan’s fans laughing and agreeing with whatever horrible words Jaehwan had written about him in his autobiography.

It seemed like a good idea to hole himself away in the studio. So long as he managed to shove away the questions – _what had Jaehwan written about him? How were their fans taking it? Did Jaehwan really hate him so much? Would Jaehwan laugh into his face when he read Wonshik’s autobiography? Would Jaehwan even read his book?_ – working was the perfect distraction. Immersed in lyrics and beats, he wouldn’t remember Jaehwan’s book lying on his desk back home, just waiting to be unwrapped and read.

That day, however, focus didn’t come easily to him, and he found his thoughts inevitably drifting to that damned book. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to distract himself; it always lurked in his mind, calling to him.

On the fourth day, he finally decided he was being a coward and settled for a day at home. He figured it was better to be safe than sorry, after all, he didn’t know what this book contained, what harsh words that would take up its pages about Wonshik, words Jaehwan had written.

If he ended up crying, he wanted the whole day to do so, tucked away in the darkness of his bedroom.

He was tempted to find the section about him straight away, but he held himself in check and opened the book to the first page. Then he started to read.

Jaehwan was at times rash, his temper controlling his actions and words, but it came from a place of insecurity, of holding himself to impossible standards and living with the fear and frustration of never meeting them. As Wonshik read, that part of Jaehwan shined through, the doubts that he was never good enough.

He was surprised by the intimate nature of the book. The pages invited Wonshik into Jaehwan’s life, his mind and memories. It almost felt like an intrusion, sometimes, like he was entering forbidden territory, yet he didn’t put the book down, too taken with the story slowly unfolding on the pages as he absorbed every word.

It also felt like Jaehwan was letting him in again, which was nice, even if the anticipation buzzed in the back of his mind, never letting him forget that with every page turned, he was one page closer to the ruthless slap from reality. He approached the time in Jaehwan’s life that he had been a major part of. Some of him wanted to tuck his tail between his legs, to run and never look at the book again before that happened; but, mostly, he just wanted to get this over with. He couldn’t avoid it forever.

Perhaps this would be the closure he had thought he’d already gotten when he threw that dish.

The part in question came up quickly.

_There are not many people I meet who manage to get under my skin. More often than not, I can smile and nod and carry on a conversation with a focus that doesn’t last for longer than the duration of the talk, my mind almost always centred on my career. I’m polite, and I get along well with others, but their words have never truly affected me._

_Not until I met Wonshik._

Wonshik’s heart jumped, and for a moment, real, tangible fear almost threatened to crumble his so carefully crafted resolve, but he shoved it away, refusing to back down when he’d already gotten so far. It was now or never, and really, how bad could it be?

Hell. It could be horrible, and Wonshik wouldn’t care. Not much, at least. He would try not to care too much. The hurt would be the worst, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. At least he had been true to himself in his own autobiography, and if Jaehwan really hated Wonshik so much, well, then so be it.

He would be all right.

_Kim Wonshik, from the moment I met him, has always had a talent for working his way into my thoughts. In the best of ways, that is. There was never anything terribly malicious about it, and the man probably didn’t know he was doing it, but he was – is – a charismatic character, who never fails to catch my eye. His lopsided grin will forever be seared in my mind, along with the rest of the memories I have from our time together._

Wonshik’s chest ached. He read on.

_You know, I’m a different person when I’m around him now. Both of us are. We bicker and fuss, but when we part again, I always regret it. As a celebrity, a singer, it is expected of me to be good with words, but I’m not. Praise gets twisted into ridicule and criticism, and I am too much of a coward to take it back once it’s out there. Everything I want to say gets turned into something menacing. I even went as far as to threaten him with this book, and his reaction nearly tore the admission out of me: I would never be able to go through with such a threat. But I left him like that, thinking I could and would._

_Even after our falling out, I think the world of him. I wonder how he is doing, wonder if he’s eating and sleeping properly, wonder if he remembers that time we went to the premiere of a friend’s movie together and held hands for the first time in public. Or the way I laughed at his jokes. Or the way he had smiled at me from the booth after I sang, nodding his head and looking at me as if I were an answer to a question I don’t know. I wonder if he thinks of me outside of our little arguments, if he remembers the times before fate pulled us apart._

_We may fight, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he is one of the most talented people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. And it doesn’t take away from the fact that I still care for him, and probably always will._

_Look at me. I sound like a sap, rambling on about the past. But it’s important, if he were ever to read this, that he knows how much he meant to me._

_I’m not brave enough to stand in front of him and tell him this to his face, so here I am._

It was only when a tear hit one of the pages that Wonshik realised he was crying. And then he couldn’t stop. He hadn’t thought to bring any tissues, and he didn’t want to move, so he made do with the sleeves of his sweater, sniffing every other minute as he continued to read.

He had expected to cry. Just not for this reason.

And to be honest, he wasn’t sure where to go from here.

-

Wonshik scrolled down his newsfeed, pausing over an article that held his name, and a picture of him and Jaehwan. He had seen many like it lately, though he was hesitant to read any.

_Battle of the Books: Kim Wonshik’s and Lee Jaehwan's Autobiographies, and What They Had to Say About Each Other._

Wonshik opened the article after a moment, reading silently to himself.

_Two weeks after Lee Jaehwan's autobiography hit the shelves, former leader of idol group_ ROVIX _and ex-boyfriend Ravi (Kim Wonshik) releases his own. Fans were expecting a lot of mudslinging from Lee after the couple split nearly three years ago, but were surprised the singer had nothing but praise for the other man. But the debut of Kim's book has people wondering if he were aware of the sweet words written for him, or if this book is going to be a blow to Lee's candid account._

Wonshik’s book had been published today. Curiosity had won him over in the end, and he had taken to looking it up online, should anyone have already read it, but as of yet the majority of the articles that cropped up when he searched were similar to the one he had just skimmed.

The screen flashed, and he blinked, looking down at it and seeing a text from Taekwoon.

_Did you do it yet?_

The question was enough to get his heart racing, or perhaps it was more the thought of calling Jaehwan that prompted that reaction. He had asked Taekwoon for Jaehwan’s number, and Taekwoon had gotten it from Hakyeon without question, which had bothered Wonshik for a bit at first, for did Taekwoon already know about what Jaehwan had written about him? And then it had occurred to him that, well, he probably had. After all, he hadn’t had a reason to postpone reading the book like Wonshik.

Regardless, it was one thing to ask for Jaehwan’s number and code it into his phone – it was another thing entirely to actually _do_ something about it. Like calling him, or sending a message. He didn’t know where to even start, what to say.

He wondered if Jaehwan had also preordered his book and was reading it right this moment, or if he were too busy. He most likely was. He was allegedly coming back with a full-length album in a month’s time, which would demand a lot of time from him in order to prepare for it. Reading Wonshik’s book probably wouldn’t be at the top of his priority list…

Perhaps he was scared to read, like Wonshik had been. Taking into consideration the words he had had to say about Wonshik in his own book, it actually wasn’t such a far-fetched idea, and Wonshik could almost all too easily imagine Jaehwan sitting like he had, just staring uncertainly at the book in front of him.

He tapped the phone nervously a couple of times, gnawing contemplatively at his bottom lip and weighing the pros and cons of manning up and calling Jaehwan. Worst case scenario, Jaehwan answered and ridiculed him for his supposed insincerity or his writing ability – or lack thereof, the insult would probably be.

Best case scenario…

Feeling almost numb, the finger that had hovered over Jaehwan’s contact eventually pressed down, and his heart jumped to his throat when the screen lit up with the words, _Calling Lee Jaehwan…_

Before he could tap the red button, he lifted the phone to his ear and waited. Part of him hoped Jaehwan wouldn’t pick up; it would be a sign that this was stupid, that he shouldn’t try again.

Wonshik held his breath.

“ _Hello?_ ”

There was no going back now. Even if his instincts screamed at him to put the phone down.

“Hey. Uhm.” Jaehwan probably didn’t have his number, did he? “It’s me. Wonshik.”

“ _Oh. Wonshik._ ” Wonshik could hear Jaehwan exhale on the other end. “ _Hi._ ”

Then there was quiet, and Wonshik squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his hand against his forehead and smacking himself mentally. He should’ve thought about what to say before calling, damn it. Now neither of them knew what to say, and it just made things even more awkward, and Wonshik hated it. He should’ve sent a text instead.

Wonshik heard Jaehwan clear his throat, and he tensed, trying to think of something to say before - “ _I - I read your book, and I, uh –_ ”

“Huh? You read it? Really? But it’s only…” He lowered his voice, nearly whispering his next words, “It’s only been a day. And you’ve already read it.”

Jaehwan drew in a sharp breath, and Wonshik feared he was going to break his phone with how tightly he was holding it. “ _Yes, well, I preordered it, okay, and I picked it up this morning, and I had an early schedule, but then I got home and I read –_ ”

“I read yours, too,” Wonshik cut in, feeling oddly short of breath for a phone call. “So, uuh. Yeah.”

They descended into silence again. Wonshik ran his tongue over his lips, clutching his phone and looking around his apartment for something that might give away what he was supposed to say now. Anything, really. He hated the silence, because it made him doubt everything, even if he knew, rationally, that he was stupid for thinking that, because Jaehwan hadn’t hung up on him, they hadn’t started insulting each other, and _Jaehwan had read his book on the day it was published_. It had taken Wonshik _days_ to sit down with Jaehwan’s book. And Jaehwan had done it straight away.

It had to mean something, right?

“Can… Can we meet up?” Wonshik asked quietly, more afraid of the answer than he cared to admit.

Another silence, but then, bless, “ _Yeah… Yeah, we can._ ”

“Do you have time now?” The words came out too eagerly, too quick, and he thought he heard the faintest chuckle from Jaehwan, a sound of disbelief.

“ _I am home, ah, if you…_ ” Jaehwan trailed off after that, but Wonshik was already getting off his couch, reaching for his keys.

“An hour. Give me an hour, and I’ll be there.”

-

Aegi was purring, curled into a ball of fluff on Wonshik’s lap as he sat in Jaehwan’s living room on Jaehwan’s sofa, with Jaehwan seated opposite him on a chair; they weren’t yet comfortable enough around each other to sit side by side, Wonshik thought. There was a change in the air, certainly, but they needed to talk things out; there was still an undeniable tension between them that came from years of locking away any positive feelings towards each other. So they sat, stiff and awkward, but together as they gathered their thoughts and courage.

Wonshik petted Aegi behind the ear, gaze mostly on her but straying now and then to Jaehwan, everything from his one bouncing leg to his rigid back giving away his anxiousness.

They hadn’t spoken much since Wonshik had arrived, asides from stilted greetings as Jaehwan had led him in and the standard _Can I get you anything?_ Wonshik had a glass on the table between them with water, and Jaehwan had even brought some chocolate cookies on a plate. Wonshik suspected it had been an excuse to stay in the kitchen for a little bit longer before coming out to face him.

“I think she likes me,” he murmured, sliding a pair of fingers down the cat’s fur before stealing another look at Jaehwan, whose slight frown gave way for a fond smile at the mention of Aegi.

“She’s amicable.”

And then they regressed into silence once more, only broken by Aegi’s purring.

What did you talk about with your ex after so long? Wonshik feared anything he had to say would spur an argument and ruin everything they’d managed to salvage for now, fragile as it was, or they would continue in this awkward manner of tentative conversation openers with terse replies that more or less closed off the topic.

Once, they could’ve talked about everything and nothing without trouble. They’d talk for hours about nothing, everything. How times had changed, Wonshik realised with a pang in his chest. Sitting here in Jaehwan’s living room, everything that had happened between them suddenly had more impact.

He was so deep in thoughts that he almost missed Jaehwan’s words, spoken so quietly that he may as well have hoped for Wonshik to not hear them.

“This is ridiculous.” Wonshik lifted his head to look at Jaehwan, blinking confusedly. Jaehwan seemed determined to not look at him, but he continued all the same, a little louder this time, “We’re getting nowhere like this. So. I’m sorry for the things I’ve said to you. They… I never really meant any of them. I was just… jealous, and afraid, and miserable. And I’m sorry for letting that out on you.”

“Oh,” Wonshik breathed, lowering his eyes to Aegi. “I… Yeah, I’m sorry, too.” He drew in a steeling breath. “It’s just… Old habits die hard, right? Every time I thought about putting it behind me, I just couldn’t.”

Jaehwan snorted, a sharp smile adorning his face for a moment. “Role models, huh. Well, we haven’t been so good at that, have we?”

“Not really.” Wonshik glanced up again, and finally met Jaehwan’s eyes without any of them looking away. “We… have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

Jaehwan nodded, averting his gaze again. He was fiddling mindlessly with a loose thread in his cardigan. “Did you have dinner yet?”

“I’m not sure I have built up enough courage to eat your food.”

Jaehwan’s head snapped up, and he frowned at Wonshik. Wonshik almost wanted to take his words back, but he held his breath; hopefully, Jaehwan would recognise it as their old banter, the harmless kind that prompted half-hearted swats and smiles, bright laughter.

Jaehwan hesitated for a bit, and then he cleared his throat. “I’ve gotten better at cooking. I… had to learn, after all. But we can order takeout, if you’d prefer,” he added quickly.

“No need,” Wonshik insisted. “If you… want to cook, then go ahead. If I get food poisoning, well, I’ll know this reconciling wasn’t the best idea we had.”

Jaehwan huffed, but this time, the smile on his face was more sincere. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

If Wonshik’s car didn’t leave Jaehwan’s apartment that night, well, let the reporters report and wonder. Neither Wonshik nor Jaehwan was in any mood to indulge them; they had things to talk out, things to reminisce, new memories to make.

The path to friendship wouldn’t be without bumps, and from friendship to love, well, no one knew. Wonshik’s heart still skipped a beat in surprised awe every time Jaehwan laughed – not an all-out laugh, not yet, but a small, quiet laugh, genuine all the same – and he dared say Jaehwan hadn’t gotten used to seeing Wonshik in his couch yet, if his occasional stares and loss of concentration were anything to go by.

Even if their books were displayed in the windows of various bookstores, their relationship was still a work in progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah, look at these awkward sweethearts.
> 
> Guys, I’m done! Officially. Yay! Big thanks to my beta, and to you, readers, for being patient <3
> 
> ~~I have vague plans for a sequel-ish with Neo focus, but. Nothing definite, so don’t hold your hopes high, pffft.~~
> 
> The next fic I upload might be one I finished a while ago. With that said, it’s the first instalment of what I plan to be two parts and a prequel – all split up into three fics. Sunset and Sunrise, and Thanatos as the prequel. Sunset is finished, and includes (most of) VIXX as faeries and focus on Neo, as well as minor background pairings. Sunrise is bothering me, as is Thanatos, but perhaps uploading Sunset could kick my writing into gear, pfft.
> 
> Anyway! I am very pleased with how this fic turned out, so I hope you liked it, too! Kudos and comments are worth a fortune to me, and may save characters in future works <3
> 
> Until next fic, dearies!


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